


Once Upon a December

by ladyxgreywolf



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Evanuris, F/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Trespasser, Trespasser Spoilers, set on earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-09 18:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12894114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyxgreywolf/pseuds/ladyxgreywolf
Summary: While walking the Fade, Solas (aka the Dread Wolf) finds himself pulled from Thedas to Earth - and ends up teaching a human girl how to use her latent powers in the Fade. Four years later, Big Ben is blown up in an terrorist attack. By mages. When the human girl - Elena - saves her sister Jane by using magic, they become the main suspects - and Solas is too far away to help.But there are others who are much closer...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Mentioned in my other DA:I fanfic - _Demons Run_ \- that I was working on a little other story. This will be much faster than _Demons Run_ , which is my main project at the moment, but I had this idea of at least getting it up now in December and - possibly, not making any promises - dividing this into 25 chapters so it's a bit like a story where one chapter can be read each day up until Christmas. We'll see how that goes! I'll most likely not post daily as December's a hectic work month for a teacher - plus, like I said, _Demons Run_ is my main project at the moment - but I'll write and post when I can. Hope you all enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How’d you get in here?” she demanded to know. He could not quite place her accent._   
>  _“Who are you?” he asked in turn. “You are no spirit.”_   
>  _“Well, neither are you”, she replied. Energy crackled around them and he frowned when he realized she could use magic._   
>  _“Who are you?” he asked again and took a step forward._   
>  _“Stay back!”_

The Fade looked different.

     It had for some time now. At first the differences had been subtle, but now they were impossible to ignore. There were memories of things he could not fathom, of people dressed in odd clothes, handling odd weapons and speaking in languages that he could not place. And, for some reason, he thought they were all of humans. No elves. And, for that matter, no one seemed to be a memory of someone who had once been a mage. Yes, he saw that, whoever this memory had once represented, they might have had the gift of magic, but no one had trained in using it. Wielding the power.

     Odd indeed.

     He made a point of staying longer in the Fade, trying to understand what was going on, but every time he returned from it he felt even more confused than before. None of it made any sense.

     It should not have mattered. He should have been focusing entirely on his mission. His calling. During the last three years his forces had grown. Elves from all over Thedas had joined him – mainly those who had grown up in cities, but also some of the Dalish, those that were somewhat younger and more prone to questioning things. Questioning their own elders. Just as they were now starting to question him.

     He had promised the Inquisitor peace for a few years – and that was what he still wanted. But the people under his command were growing restless and he was running out of viable reasons to give them. No one had outright rebelled yet, but he suspected that was due to who he was. His reputation. He had heard the rumors whispered in the multiple camps where his followers stayed and, even though only half of them were true, they were enough to keep them all in check.

     For now.

     Thus, he spent his time in the Fade, investigating the differences, trying to understand them. Trying to understand what words like _Ypres_ and _chlorine gas_ and _Somme_ meant. The more he tried, the more the spirits noticed him, tried to show him what the memories and words meant. Eventually, he let them.

     The sheer amount of memories made the scene unfolding in front of him so clear that he felt like he was actually there – and, once seeing what the memories entailed, he did not want to. Bloody battles fought with long range weapons that seemed to shoot metal and fire at a speed that he could not fathom. There were corpses everywhere and the air smelled foul. It took him a moment to realize that it was not just the corpses, but something else. He could not breathe. His lungs were burning. He saw people – _memories_ of people – falling all around him, clawing at their throats and chests with wide, panicked eyes. Just like he felt.

     _Not real_ , he told himself and pushed through the swarm of spirits – of memories. _Not real. Not real_.

     Then his surroundings changed and he could breathe again. There were still spirits nearby, on all sides of him, but there seemed to be something pushing them away. Creating a safe space. He was on a mountain path surrounded by trees – big and small, with green leaves or darker needles. Deciding to push his limits, he started following the winding path, climbing higher and then lower, into a dell. The forest opened up into a clearing consisting of mainly a pond, its water dark but not murky, as if it was simply a very deep pond. He stopped when he realized that someone was sitting on the opposite side. Not a spirit, though. This individual was a dreamer, but not one who had been lured into the Fade unwillingly. He could tell by the lack of demons around them _and_ the shield keeping the spirits at bay.

     This person – this girl – was its creator.

     He was certain he had not made any noise to alert her of his presence, but all of a sudden her head snapped up, eyes wide as she spotted him. Then she scrambled back, pulling her legs and feet out of the water in order to stand.

     “How’d you get in here?” she demanded to know. He could not quite place her accent.

     “Who are you?” he asked in turn. “You are no spirit.”

     “Well, neither are you”, she replied. Energy crackled around them and he frowned when he realized she could use magic.

     “Who are you?” he asked again and took a step forward.

     “Stay back!”

     Water shot out of the pond. He sensed, at once, that it was not controlled as well as it should be – that it did not aim straight at him, as he had thought it would, but everywhere at once. His reaction was instinctive; he raised his hand, palm up, and created a barrier above both of them, only allowing the water to go through it upwards but not once it came down. Then he reached out with his senses and took control of the water, forcing it back down into the pond. He met very little resistance and soon the surface was a smooth mirror again.

     On the other side of the pond, the girl stared at him, lips slightly parted. Her chest was heaving and he saw the way she had to fight to stay upright.

     “You… what are you?” she asked, her voice hoarse. Not who, but what. As if him being a mage was not something she had expected.

     “I am a mage”, he still answered. To his surprise, she let out a huff that might have passed as a laugh.

     “I suspected as much”, she said, then grimaced. “Sorry, I… I think I need to…”

     Her knees buckled and she fell onto the grass, not catching herself with her hands. Her head barely missed hitting a nearby stone. When she did not roll over or even moved, he found himself worriedly walking around the pond and kneeling next to her. Her skin felt cold as he turned her onto her back, but she was still breathing. Her eyes fluttered open and, eventually, managed to focus on him.

     “You need to practice”, he said. “Collapsing every time you use magic is not ideal.”

     “I haven’t used it before”, she replied, her voice barely a whisper. He frowned.

     “You are the creator of this place”, he said. “You’re still using magic.”

     “That’s my imagination”, she said, her lips pulling up in a faint smile. “Not magic.”

     “I believe you and I have very different definitions of magic.”

     She huffed out a laugh again, before turning serious, studying his face intently.

     “You’re not someone I’ve imagined in the back of my head at some point, are you?” she asked. An odd question.

     “No”, he still replied, “I’m quite real.”

     “But you’re an elf”, she said. “How can you be real?”

     “Why do you think elves aren’t real?” he asked. She shook her head slightly, frowning.

     “There are no elves in my world”, she said slowly. His own frown deepened. Her world. As in them being from different ones.

     “What does _Ypres_ mean?” he asked.

     “It’s a place”, she replied, “in Belgium.”

     “Where’s…”

     He fell silent, then raised his head. Her forest still stood around them, but on the other side of the shield were the thousands upon thousands of spirits manifesting memories of battlefields. Battlefields that, to him, still seemed impossible, but to her they might not be. To her, they were real. In the past, but still real.

     “Another world”, he murmured. “How?”

     She did not reply. Perhaps she had no answer, either.

     “Who are you?” she asked instead. He turned his gaze back to her, met her inspecting hazel eyes.

     “I am Solas.”

     Then he found himself waking up in this strange, new world.


	2. The Clocktower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re really quiet today”, Jane noted, taking a sip from her Starbucks coffee as they walked towards Big Ben, pushing through throngs of tourists. Why they had chosen this route, Elena was not sure._   
>  _“Just thinking about work”, she said._   
>  _“Ah. Troublesome thing, work.”_   
>  _Elena let out a slight laugh. Jane tended to say those things every now and then, sounding like an elderly British gentleman as she did. And then she would grin, just like she did now._

Elena’s grin widened as the shield she had placed in front of her held the assault of magic. She had been confident it would, but it felt good to actually prove her teacher right. As he let up his stream of energy and nodded at her to let her shield go, she hoped there would be a smile tugging at his lips as well.

     Her grin faded when she realized he looked just as he always did. Stoic, proud, distant – and as if he could find some sort of fault in everything she did. He always had some comment on how she needed to focus more, or concentrate her energy on a smaller area, or angle her fingers just so. As she banished the shield, she braced herself for such a comment.

     “There is no need for such flare.”

     And there it was. She narrowed her eyes at him.

     “It’s the only way I can do it”, she replied. “I tried every bloody technique you showed me. That one’s the only one that works.”

     “Then why did you not start to mold it into one that wastes less energy once you had mastered it?” he asked, his voice calm, analytical. At times like these she would have been happier if he screamed at her. At least then there would be some sort of difference to him, some resemblance of the man who had first walked into her dream place almost four years ago. Back then he had, at least, shown some feelings. Surprise, thoughtfulness, wonder, perhaps a tad bit of worry when she had collapsed. But when she had met him again a few nights after that, he had been this.

     Still, he had accepted when she had requested he teach her how to use magic. And he had not given up on her yet, despite her incredibly slow progress. So far she could not use a smidgen of it outside of the Fade. That was what he called the place where they met. Where he was in reality, she did not know. Nor had she asked him; she had a feeling he would be reluctant to actually tell her. Honestly, she knew very little about him besides his name and him being an elven mage.

     Though he did not know much more about her, either.

     “This is useless”, she muttered and sat down next to the pond. She briefly tried to make the water jump up at her, but unlike the first day they had met here it remained still. _Traitor_ , she thought.

     “Practice and you will get there”, her teacher said behind her back.

     “How?” she asked, glaring over her shoulder at him. “It doesn’t work in my world. Only here. And I can’t get here every night.”

     It was the truth. She was lucky if she could get here twice per week. And every time she did get there, he was waiting, and practicing in front of him was impossible. Not just because of the constant comments on what she needed to improve.

     She turned away before he could see how red her face was getting. It had started about eight months ago, when he had demonstrated one technique for strengthening the shield. She had found herself mesmerized by the way his fingers moved, as if caressing the invisible strands of energy around them, and her mind had suddenly wondered what those long fingers would feel like caressing her skin. The only time he had touched her was that first night, when he had helped her turn onto her back after her collapse. There had been a gentleness to them – to him – that she still had trouble associating with the man who had since been teaching her. But her mind kept imagining his touch – and more.

     No, he was not bad looking, and no, she was not against feeling attraction towards him. But she could not understand why she could not simply let it go. Every other time when it had just been her feeling attracted to a man, she had been able to talk herself out of it simply by observing said man’s behavior. With Solas, that was seemingly impossible.

     “Look”, she said, shaking off her thoughts, “I’m sure you have better things to do than teaching me this stuff. So perhaps we should call it quits here and now.”

     He did not reply and, at first, she was certain he had left. Then he suddenly sat down nearby, legs crossed. There was a frown on his face, which made her frown as well.

     “What?”

     “Are you giving up, Elena?” he asked, his voice still just as calm as before.

     “Well, there doesn’t seem to be any point with any of this”, she replied and shot him another glare. To her surprise, a muscle in his jaw twitched. First a frown, now this. What was happening?

     “There is a point”, he said. “You need to control your powers, or you will be a danger to yourself and others.”

     She was too busy frowning at him to reply. It was like watching a porcelain doll crack open and reveal an actual person beneath the shell.

     “Perhaps we should focus on something else for a while”, he said, straightening slightly, the cracks in his façade smoothing over. _Damn it_ , she thought. For just a moment she had seen who he was beneath it. There had been a rush of emotions in his eyes, the most prominent one fear. What was he afraid of?

     “Focus on what?” she asked. “Weapons? You know I’m not interested in shooting fireballs at anyone.”

     “You are wielding magic right now”, he said, not falling for her comment. “This place was created by you.”

     He ran his long fingers through the grass next to him. She had to suppress a shiver as she instead imagined those same fingers running through her hair.

     “Create something”, he said. “Not a shield, but an object.”

     “Like what?”

     “That is up to you.”

     His blue eyes turned up to look at her again, causing her to turn her own gaze away. Her mind whirred with possible things to create. Perhaps another tree, or a bush, or a flower, or a leaf. That should mean replicating what was already there – which, to her, sounded easier than beginning from scratch. But he might think she was cheating by doing that. An animal, perhaps? No, too complicated. She bent her head back with a sigh, then frowned and pursed her lips. Maybe…

     “Try”, he said next to her, his voice much softer than it had been before. She did not dare turn to look at him, see if his shell had broken down once again. Instead she closed her eyes and focused.

     She did not know how long she had been sitting like that when the first snowflake landed on her forehead, followed by another, then another. A steady, slow fall of snow. She opened her eyes and saw that the flakes – white and pure – had already started to settle on the ground around them. Two landed near one another on her left leg and, before they melted away, she saw that they each had their own individual design. Unique, just like snowflakes should be.

     Bracing herself for a criticizing comment, she turned to look at Solas. But to her surprise he was not looking back at her. His face was turned up towards the falling snow, his eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted – and she was quite certain the corners of his lips were tugged up in a teeny-tiny smile.

     “Snow”, he said. “Why snow?”

     “I like snow”, she replied, turning away from him before he opened his eyes again. No matter how at ease he had just looked, she was sure he had a comment ready for her about it.

     “As do I.”

     She spun her head back to face him so fast the back of her neck cracked. Solas looked like an entirely different person. His lips were most certainly turned slightly upwards in a smile, his blue eyes glittered and his posture was more relaxed. It took her a long time to realize she was staring at him – but once she did she was not quite sure what to say instead.

     “I believe that’s enough for tonight”, he said, his voice still soft, far gentler than she was used to.

     “It’ll be a while before I come here again”, she replied. A reminder. Every year at this time she went to London with her sister – and while there she had discovered she could not get in touch with Solas through the Fade. It might have to do with distance, she supposed, but that would also mean he was somewhere near her in the waking world, without her having ever met him there. Or perhaps London itself was what was causing the disturbance. Such a big city with an equally big history would have a large impact on what the Fade reflected and perhaps make it impossible to call upon this place. At least she had never been able to call upon the forest clearing while there. Enter the Fade, yes, but not enter this place.

     “Until then”, Solas said, “I suggest you practice creating things.”

     He held out his hand and caught a snowflake in his palm. Unlike the two that had fallen on her leg before, this one did not seem to have a proper shape. It was more a ball of fluff. She braced herself for the comment regarding details.

     “You’re getting tired”, he said instead. “End the snowfall, now.”

     She did. Unlike banishing the shield, making the snowfall stop was a breeze. Perhaps this field of magic would indeed be easier for her.

     “I’m fine”, she said and moved to rise, only to feel her arms and legs give way beneath her. A startled scream escaped her, followed by an equally startled gasp when Solas’ long, slender fingers grabbed hold of her, steadied her. She stared at them for a few moments before looking up at the elf. He was so close.

     “I’ll be here when you get back”, he said.

     Then she woke up in her own bed, blinking up at the ceiling above her. She still felt as if he was holding her arms, as if he was close enough for her to feel him breathing. But of course he was not. She was alone in her apartment – and she needed to get going if she was to catch her train.

* * *

Her sister, Jane, lived closer to London and was waiting for Elena just beyond the platform at Waterloo, bouncing on the balls of her feet to keep warm in the early December chill.

     “You didn’t reply to my text this morning”, she berated after they had hugged one another in greeting.

     “Was a bit late”, Elena replied, “and then I just forgot.”

     Truth be told she had tried to use the time on the train to practice, attempting to go back into the Fade and find the clearing again. However, her attempts had been futile. She wondered what Jane might think if she found out about her older sister’s strange dream life. Jane had always been a bit more grounded than Elena. Bouncy, eager and easy to annoy, yes, but still far more grounded. Supernatural things were not something she just believed in, while Elena had always liked the idea of magic. Of it being real.

     “Well, let’s go, then”, Jane said. “Let’s set up at the hotel and plan our stay here.”

     “You know we’ll be busy on Saturday, right?” Elena said. “Aunt Regina asked us to come by.”

     “I know, I know.”

     And just like always when the two of them were together, conversation started to flow easily and Elena’s thoughts of the Fade and Solas went to the back of her mind. The days that followed were filled with shopping, eating out and spending time together. On Saturday they took the train to Winchfield, where their aunt and cousins lived, and spent a lovely day chatting with them about everything between heaven and earth. Well, everything non-supernatural. As they boarded the train back to London that night, Elena’s thoughts drifted briefly to Solas. They sometimes did when she was in a place with lots of strangers, because maybe, just maybe, one of them might be him. But no one in the carriage looked even remotely like him. She yawned and settled into her seat, deciding to use this one-hour journey to at least catch up on some sleep. The train would go no further than Waterloo, after all, and if she did not wake up as they announced their arrival, Jane would certainly shake her awake.

     She was stunned when she found herself in the Fade the moment she closed her eyes, but not in the Fade she knew. This was a large field, empty except for one thing running towards her. A large, black wolf.

     She yelped and turned to run, when a voice called at her to stop. Solas. She hesitated, hoping this was not some demon luring her by mimicking his voice, and turned to face the beast again. In that moment it changed. It rose up on its hindlegs, the fur disappeared, the paws became feet and hands, and suddenly it was no wolf but the elven man who had been teaching her magic for several years now.

     “What the…” she begun, staring at him.

     “There’s no time”, he interrupted. “Something’s about to happen. Your world is in danger.”

     “My world?”  
     “Warn your leaders”, Solas said. “You have to warn them, Elena. Make them understand that they’re…”

     He faded away, as did the rest of the scene. She thought she heard a wolf howl in frustration, but it sounded far away, and soon she was surrounded by nothing but mist as the train headed towards London.

     Elena pondered Solas’ mysterious warning all through the next day. Contacting the leaders of this world was not an easy thing. In fact she doubted she could even get in touch directly with one of them until next year. And even if she, somehow, miraculously, managed to get a meeting with the British Prime Minister in the next day or so, what could she tell them? That an elven mage from another world had warned her of some upcoming but unknown danger? Hello, asylum.

     “You’re really quiet today”, Jane noted, taking a sip from her Starbucks coffee as they walked towards Big Ben, pushing through throngs of tourists. Why they had chosen this route, Elena was not sure.

     “Just thinking about work”, she said.

     “Ah. Troublesome thing, work.”

     Elena let out a slight laugh. Jane tended to say those things every now and then, sounding like an elderly British gentleman as she did. And then she would grin, just like she did now.

     “Come on”, the younger sister said, “we’ve got two more days in London, lots of Christmas presents left to buy and I’m going to make it my task to distract you from all those work-thoughts until you get on the train back home.”

     Elena rolled her eyes at her, then took a sip from her own coffee and looked up at the clock in front of them. It was covered in tarpaulin and scaffolding.

     “Strange that it won’t make a sound for four years”, she sighed. “I liked that old thing.”

     “You’re strange”, Jane noted. “Come on, there’s a gap among the tourists over there and…”

     Everything happened so fast Elena did not quite understand what it was until it was over. There was heat and something that pushing her back, sending her sprawling on the ground, coffee spilled all over her jacket. When she blinked up at Big Ben, it seemed to be coming closer. It was falling. People screamed and ran away all around them. Some jumped into the Thames, their clothes burning. But Elena found herself spinning around on the ground and thrusting her hands out towards Jane, who had fallen nearby, and Jane went flying back and away.

     Then something landed on top of Elena. She screamed as pain shot through her entire body – and then the pain went away. Well, mostly. Her head ached, her arms and chest felt heavy and unusable, but the rest seemed… not fine, but not in pain. She blinked through her tears and managed to spot Jane rising to her feet. Her younger sister screamed.

     “Elena! Elena!”

     She was running. Then her hand grabbed Elena’s and tried to pull her free of whatever was on top of her. It was of no use.

     “Oh my god”, Jane sobbed. “Oh my god, Elena! You…”

     “Are you hurt?” Elena asked. She did not think she was speaking much louder than a whisper.

     “Bruised”, Jane replied, sniffling. “Not hurt, but… Elena, the clock…”

     Elena chanced a glance over her shoulder. A large piece of the clocktower was on top of her, leaving only what was above her shoulder blades free. The rest… she could not feel the rest.

     “My back’s broken”, she said. A part of her realized she was most likely in shock. She sounded far too robotic, far too, well, alright to actually be alright. Jane just sobbed and nodded. Then, all of a sudden, she gasped and looked at something behind Elena. Elena tried to turn and look as well, but the thing on her back was in the way. Well, it was at first. Then it suddenly floated up into the air, travelled a bit aside and then went back down again. A man was running towards them. Not Solas – which Elena had thought it might be – but a tanned, human man with a face that seemed to belong on one of those old Greek marble statues.

     “Alright”, he said and knelt down next to them, “let’s get you two to safety, shall we?”

     “Who the hell are you?” Jane exclaimed.

     “My name’s Dorian Pavus, and thank you for asking in such a polite manner.”

     Elena found herself lifted up into the man’s arms, but she could not feel more than one arm lifting her. The other was beneath her knees – and they looked smashed. Not just them; her legs, her pelvis, her feet, her stomach, they all looked flat and squashed. A lot more than her back had been broken.

     “Considering what this young lady just did”, Dorian Pavus continued as he marched towards a black car driving towards them across the bridge, “and the state she’s now in, I’d say you two might be in need of some help.”

     The car stopped just in front of them and Jane screamed in shock. Elena frowned at her in confusion, then looked in through the window at the car’s driver. A big, stocky man with giant horns sticking out on either side of his face.

     “Girls, this is Iron Bull”, Dorian said and, somehow, managed to open the door behind the passenger seat. “Bull, these are… well, the girls.”

     “Pleased to meet you”, the man with the horns said with a deep, rumbling voice. The next moment, Elena found herself placed lying down on the leather seat in the back. Then Dorian climbed in after her and placed her head in his lap, grinning down at her.

     “I’m not getting in next to that thing”, Jane argued from outside. “I should be with my sister.”

     “I need to work on healing your sister”, Dorian replied, turning towards the girl outside the door, “and Bull doesn’t bite. Well, unless you want him to.”

     Bull chuckled.

     “Don’t worry”, he said to Jane, “I’m only here to drive you from here to the safe house today.”

     “What safe house?” Elena asked.

     “She talks!” Dorian said and looked back at her with a grin. Jane made an annoyed sound, then slid into the passenger seat. The moment she closed the door, Bull turned the car around and sped off.

     “To answer your question”, Dorian said, “there’s a safe house for people that might need to be saved. From whatever’s happening. And that’s where we are going.”

     He moved one hand to a point on her back that she could no longer feel and grimaced slightly.

     “You’re certainly smashed.”

     “You know that means drunk, right?” Elena asked.

     “Does it?” Dorian asked. “I did not know that.”

     She was not sure if he was serious or not, though at the moment her attention was more on the hand he had just pulled free from beneath her back. It was glowing.

     “You’re a mage?” she asked.

     “That I am”, Dorian replied, moving slightly to be able to move his hand in beneath her back again, “though healing is not my forte. I’ll do my best to patch you back together, though.”

     He smiled again, but by now Elena had started to see the cracks in his façade. The tension in his jaw, the way his smile quickly gave way to a more serious expression – he certainly was worried. Maybe even scared. He seemed to realize that she was studying him and turned away slightly, making sure he did not show her his full expression.

     “How far is it?” Jane muttered from the passenger seat.

     “Depends on what routes we have to take”, Bull replied. “So far we’re clear.”

     “What happened, exactly?” Jane asked. Elena saw that she turned so that she could look at her and Dorian in the back as well.

     “Big Ben just… exploded”, her younger sister continued. “Was it a terror attack? How’d they sneak a bomb into there?”

     “That was no bomb”, Dorian replied. “It was magic. Powerful, ancient magic.”

     Elena was pretty sure him and Bull exchanged a glance in the rearview mirror as he said that. Why? What was this about powerful, ancient magic?

     “People died, or fled”, Dorian continued. “I’m not sure if you two noticed; you were in a bit of trouble of your own. And when I saw this young lady using magic, I decided to help out.”

     “You used magic?” Jane asked, looking at Elena. “When you pushed me out of the way, that was you using magic? How?”

     “Long story”, Elena replied. The parts of her body that she could feel felt cold; she had goosebumps running up and down her arms.

     “Bull”, Dorian said, his eyes glued to her.

     “I know”, Bull replied. Elena was not sure, but she thought the car was picking up speed. Her mind was busier remembering the few flashes of memories she had of the incident at Big Ben. The explosion. People burning and jumping into the Thames.

     “How many died?” she whispered.

     “We don’t know”, Dorian somberly replied. He snuck one of his arms beneath her shoulders and she felt his skin heat up, warming her as well. A fire mage. Solas had tested her when it came to fire magic a year back, but she had not liked that at all. Dorian seemed very proficient at using it, however, and she moved as much as she could to get more of the heat.

     “What about the police?” Jane asked. “And the politicians? Won’t they be looking for us? For witnesses?”

     “I’m sure they will”, Bull replied, “but not for the reasons you’d like.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “You didn’t believe magic was real, did you?” Bull asked. “Your government’s been aware of its existence for some time now – and they’ve been terrified of it. Of people who have it. Now here we have a magical explosion in your parliament and, just outside, a woman using magic. To save her sister, yes, but they’ll possibly still see it as a threat.”

     “You used it as well, though”, Jane said, turning to look at Dorian again.

     “And they’ll most likely be looking for me, too”, he replied. “Good thing we’ll be out of sight from them soon. This car looks different at various intervals – and I’ve made sure that whatever cameras they’re using they won’t pick up on our unique looks while we’re in here. Just a bit of basic spell work.”

     “But they’ll think we’re responsible, even though we’re not? Bloody bastards.”

     Bull let out a barking laugh.

     “They’re politicians! Haven’t you seen that before?”

     “Sadly, yes”, Jane agreed. Elena did not hear any more of the conversation; she drifted off to sleep in Dorian’s warm embrace.


	3. The Safehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bull knocked on the door. Jane was surprised he did not manage to break it by simply tapping it with his finger; Iron Bull certainly looked like that sort of creature._   
>  _“It’s us”, he muttered through the wood. The door swung open, revealing a large, open space that took up the entire downstairs of the house. Well, it probably was large, but it was also crowded. Jane counted ten of them. Mostly human, she guessed, but some she was not so sure about, and there were five men and five women._   
>  _“Oh my”, the woman who had opened the door gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. She had dark skin and black hair, and green eyes that were at the moment glued to Elena’s broken body._

Jane still did not fully trust these strange people, but by the time they pulled up outside of a dark house in one of the London suburbs she at least felt confident that they might be able to help Elena. If they could not, however, she would not hesitate to drag her sister out of that house and find somewhere else to go. After all, maybe they were lying about politicians actually knowing about magic and that sort of stuff. Maybe this was all a hoax. Maybe they were behind this whole thing.

     Magic. She looked back at her sister, brought out of the car by Dorian. Elena had never said anything about having magic, but Jane had always found her big sister a bit odd. The sort of person who imagined gnomes in the garden and such. Not crazy. Far from it. But magic? That was a whole new level of oddness. And she had used it to push her – Jane – away from the debris. And broken what looked like every bone below her chest in the process. Dorian had tried to heal some of it while she slept, but Jane was quite sure he had not made much progress. He looked knackered, though, with dark shadows beneath his eyes.

     Bull knocked on the door. Jane was surprised he did not manage to break it by simply tapping it with his finger; Iron Bull certainly looked like that sort of creature.

     “It’s us”, he muttered through the wood. The door swung open, revealing a large, open space that took up the entire downstairs of the house. Well, it probably was large, but it was also crowded. Jane counted ten of them. Mostly human, she guessed, but some she was not so sure about, and there were five men and five women.

     “Oh my”, the woman who had opened the door gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. She had dark skin and black hair, and green eyes that were at the moment glued to Elena’s broken body.

     “We saw what happened”, a tall blond man said, stepping up as well. “It’s all over the news.”

     “Yeah”, a smaller woman with a pixie cut agreed, “big bastards blaming ‘em for all of it.”

     She waved her hand at an old TV in a corner of the room. Dorian walked towards it and placed Elena on one of the couches, then slumped on the floor next to it. Bull shot him a worried glance.

     “You’re exhausted”, another dark-skinned woman said. She was bald and had a graceful way about her as she moved – but the kind of grace that an ocean predator also had. Dorian shot her a mocking smile.

     “I did not realize, Vivienne, but thank you for telling me.”

     “I’m… confused”, Jane admitted, looking at Bull. “Who are all these people?”

     “We are what remain of the Inquisition of Thedas.”

     The new voice came from a man who had lingered by the wall of the room. Jane noted that the others parted in front of him, as if he, despite the fact that he had stayed in the background, was in fact their leader. She also noticed that he only had one arm; his left one was amputated, leaving only a stump. Still, he was built for fighting, had a chiseled face, wide shoulders, his brown hair was cropped short and he had observant brown eyes. Other than looking like they saw everything, Jane also thought those eyes looked sad. There was a sadness about his whole person, actually; the kind that comes from losing someone you care about.

     “We are not of this world”, he said, “but we came here a few years ago, pulled through the Fade for reasons we did not know. Luckily, we found some people who helped us adjust to life here, but then they all turned up dead. And we realized that, even though we were not in our world anymore, we were still a threat to someone. So we took a step back, hid, waited, and then this happened.”

     He gestured to the TV, which was off at the moment, but Jane supposed he meant the news about the explosion at Big Ben.

     “We don’t know what’s causing this, but people here, in your world, will look for someone to blame. Someone like your sister.”

     “And Dorian”, Jane filled in. “They’ll blame people with magic.”

     The man nodded.

     “Exactly.”

     “So, what?” Jane asked. “You’re a rescue organization now?”

     “Until we know what we’re dealing with, that is the best we can do”, a woman with red hair said, stepping up as well. “We’re trying to glean information wherever possible, but in this world it’s a lot more difficult. All this… technology, it’s making my work harder.”

     “Wait, you’re a spy?” Jane guessed. The red-haired woman nodded.

     “This is Leliana”, the brown-haired man said, “and the ones who met you at the door are Josephine and Cullen. The Inquisition’s advisors in espionage, diplomacy and military strategy, respectively.”

     “And you are…”

     “Erik Trevelyan”, the man replied.

     “The Inquisitor”, a dark-haired woman with a scar on her left cheek and chin filled in.

     “Doesn’t mean anything to me”, Jane said, “other than it sounding like a fancy title for the leader of a band of outcasts.”

     Erik’s face split up in a grin. A few others around the room chuckled or – in Bull’s case – laughed. The way they did it made it seem like they had not laughed or joked in quite a while.

     “I think you’ll fit right in, Kitten”, a short man with a crooked nose said. Jane stared at him in confusion.

     “I hate cats”, she then said. He laughed.

     “No wonder. You have the temper of one.”

     “Well, look who’s awake again”, Dorian said from the couch, drawing their attention. Jane gasped when she saw that Elena was awake, looking around the room in confusion. Well, as much as she could look around. She was in no position to sit up and take them all in.

     “Is this the safehouse?” she asked, looking at Dorian, then Jane and Bull. Jane quickly moved so that she sat on the edge of the couch, able to take her sister’s hand. She responded to the question with a nod. Elena nodded back, signaling that she understood the answer.

     “How do you feel?” Jane asked.

     “I… can’t”, Elena admitted. For the first time since the explosion, Jane saw her pale and how tears formed in her hazel eyes. Not until now did she seem to realize just how badly that piece of Big Ben had broken her.

     “We’ll figure something out”, Jane promised, then looked to Dorian for confirmation. Despite the dark shadows beneath his eyes, he nodded resolutely.

     “Of course we will.”

     “How?” Elena asked. Jane cursed silently. Of course; now that Elena was a bit more clearheaded, she would want explanations. That was the way her sister worked.

     “You said that healing wasn’t your forte – and you look terrible just from trying to do it”, the older of the sisters said. “Do you have a friend that can help?”

     “We… _had_ a friend”, Erik said, having moved closer to the couch as well. Elena frowned at him.

     “This is Erik Trevelyan”, Jane introduced, “their leader. More introductions later.”

     “Who was this friend?” Elena asked. “Why’s he or she not here with you?”

     “Because he’s trying to take over our world”, the woman with the scar replied. “For all we know, he might have done it while we’ve been here.”

     “Some friend”, Jane muttered.

     “We’ll do our best”, Dorian said, speaking to Elena. “Just because it’s not my forte it doesn’t mean I can’t use such magic at all. It just takes a bit more time.”

* * *

Somehow, time seemed to be the only thing that they had. And having too much time and nothing to do but sit around was incredibly boring. Only those in the group that looked human and did not have some sort of arrest warrant on their heads were allowed outside to do the necessary shopping – and by the third day in the house Jane felt like throwing herself out of a window just to see what might happen. But every time she thought of doing that, she looked at Elena. A bed had been placed in the corner of the large downstairs room, which was better than the couch, and she had pillows helping her sit up somewhat when necessary, but that was it. Despite Dorian doing what he could there was no visible progress when it came to healing her broken body, which meant that Jane’s older sister spent her days lying there, in bed, occasionally being moved to a bathroom to do her business there. Jane felt like she really could not complain about her situation; after all, she could walk up the stairs, go to the toilet on her own, and if she had not had a warrant on her head she would have been able to go outside as well. Elena could not. But she never complained about it. She rarely spoke at all. Mostly, she slept, or looked like she was sleeping.

     “Can’t they find somebody else to blame?” Jane muttered at the TV when another news report about the Big Ben explosion was shown. Nowadays it was always accompanied by a CCTV shot of Elena using magic to push Jane out of the way and one of the clock tower piece floating away from her back. Dorian was not shown as its wielder, but he was later shown as someone who helped them escape the crime scene. Instead people believed the clock tower had been lifted by Jane – marking her as a mage as well. And people were terrified. There was interview after interview with people out in the streets who confirmed how scared they were of the “witches” who had killed so many people near Big Ben.

     “I doubt they’ve found any other evidence as to who did it”, Leliana said, walking in from the garage. She had been out seeking information again – and by the looks of it she had come up short. No one knew who had caused the explosion, only that it was magic.

     “They’ve interrogated our family”, Jane said, “and trashed the hotel we stayed at. _Trashed_ , I tell you. And nothing! When are they going to realize that, oh, we blamed the wrong people?”

     “I think the sky will fall down before they do, Kitten”, Varric – the short man who was actually a dwarf – said with a crooked smile. Jane decided not to give a haughty response to that. She liked Varric well enough. In fact, she liked everyone at this safehouse for one reason or another. She might even say she trusted them all with her life. But she still felt like an outsider. They were all a part of this… Inquisition squad and had come from another world and were fighting magic – and Elena had magic, so she somehow fit in with them. Jane was only here because Jane happened to be her sister.

     “Nothing new?”

     That was Erik, coming down the stairs, his eyes going from Leliana to Jane to Varric and back again.

     “No”, Leliana replied. “If the politicians have more information about who might be behind this, they have not spoken out about it. They prefer to let innocents be blamed.”

     “That sounds eerily familiar”, Erik noted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Leliana rolled her eyes at him, but smiled back at the one-armed man, as did Varric. Some inside joke that did not help Jane feel any more like a part of the group. Then Erik’s gaze travelled back to her.

     “I thought we could do some training”, he said. Jane frowned.

     “Training?”

     “Something to keep yourself occupied, instead of that thing”, Erik replied, nodding in the direction of the TV. Without waiting for her reply he then walked past Leliana into the garage. Curious, Jane followed. Erik led her to the far back of the garage where, hidden among old paint buckets and tools, he revealed a trapdoor and a ladder. He went down first, grinning up at her when she hesitated at the top.

     “Scared?” he teased.

     “Well, I prefer not to follow strange men into tunnels”, Jane replied, but started to climb down as well.

     “Am I that much of a stranger to you still?” he asked as she was halfway down.

     “I didn’t say stranger. I said strange.”

     Erik laughed and was still smiling once she landed on the ground and turned to face him.

     “You should have seen me while I was still leading the Inquisition”, he said, then took a torch hanging from the righthand wall, turned it on and started down the tunnel. It sloped slightly downwards, making Jane think they were heading deeper down beneath the house itself. She expected it to end in some sort of cave. Instead the tunnel opened up into a vast room which looked very much like a training hall for martial arts. The floor was padded, the walls and ceiling had exposed wooden beams, everything was painted in light colours, and there was a vast array of weapons hanging from hooks or lying on shelves along the wall to their left. Jane’s jaw dropped open at the sight, which made Erik grin again.

     “How can this be here?” she asked him.

     “After we came here, we needed a good place to train”, he replied, turning off the torch and walking over to the weapons. “We were fighters back in Thedas. We had an army to lead and fought against vile humans and demons. Not continuing to practice those skills here… it did not feel possible. So we dug this out, together, and Dorian and Vivienne made it look like a training room.”

     “You had a place like this back in Thedas?” Jane asked.

     “No”, Erik replied, “we usually trained outdoors. Sometimes in the barracks, but outdoors always felt better. You did battles outdoors, so the weather did not matter.”

     He took a sword from one of the racks. It was narrower than most others, and slightly curved at the tip. Not one she would have pictured him wielding.

     “Before I lost my arm”, he said, “I fought with two of these. Varric called me Whirly, because I moved like a whirlwind while fighting. At least that’s what he’s told me.”

     He flicked the weapon, swinging it in a graceful movement in front of him. Jane could see that the move would, most likely, have looked even cooler with two swords instead of just one.

     “What does he call you now, then?” she asked.

     “He hasn’t given me a new name”, Erik replied. “You’re the first one he’s given a nickname in years. In fact, I haven’t heard him call any of the others by the names he once gave them since we came here.”

     She felt as if something stuck in her throat. Why her? Why had he begun to call her Kitten – of all things – right after meeting her, when he had not nicknamed his friends?

     “Here.”

     Jane blinked and stared down at the sword that had appeared in front of her face. Erik’s sword. She frowned and looked up at him.

     “You expect me to just… start using it? Without cutting myself?”

     His lips pulled up in a smile.

     “No”, he replied, “I want to see you hold it. See if it might work for you. For me, it works best if I have two of them, but you’re smaller. Lighter. One of them might be enough for you.”

     Still not entirely sure about this plan of his, Jane took the sword and held it awkwardly in front of herself, while Erik stepped back, studying her. As he did, she noted he pursed his lips in a way that was almost comical – and she had to fight to keep from grinning at the sight. He still noticed.

     “What’s so funny?” he asked, now frowning instead.

     “Nothing”, Jane replied, shaking her head. “So, what’s the verdict?”

     Erik walked back up to her and adjusted her grip on the sword, then how she stood as she held it. His hands were callused from years of fighting.

     “A perfect fit”, he said after a while. He was still standing right next to her, his hand encircling the one she gripped the sword in. She suddenly found it very hard to breathe.     “I know…” he begun, then cleared his throat, “I know this must seem strange to you. That we are strange.”

     He smiled slightly, recalling what she had said before they ventured down into the tunnel, no doubt.

     “But we care about you, and your sister. You’re not… I hope you’ll find a way to belong here as well.”

     Jane had to swallow before she was able to nod.

     “I hope so, too.”


	4. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What are you trying to do?” Dorian asked her one night. He was the only one still downstairs – and the only reason why he had not gone to bed was that he had been attempting to heal her again._   
>  _“Nothing”, she replied. He raised his eyebrows at her._   
>  _“You slip off into the Fade whenever you close your eyes and you tell me that you’re not trying to do anything?”_   
>  _Now it was Elena’s turn to frown._   
>  _“You… how’d you know?” she asked._

The times during the day when she kept her eyes opened, Elena preferred to look up at the ceiling above her head. Looking around made her think of all the things she could no longer do. Walking, for example. No, she did not regret pushing Jane out of the way. She could never regret that. But that did not mean she had trouble adjusting to not being able to do all the things she had previously been able to do.

     Other than walking the Fade.

     That was the main reason why she slept so much. Not to heal, not because she was bored, but because in the Fade things were as they always had been. And, for the first time, the Fade seemed to respond to her every time she tried to enter it. She did not fail in calling upon the forest glade once – and there she could walk through the grass, feel the cold water with her toes, her legs. In her dreams, she was the same as always. But Solas was never there.

     The first time she had found the glade empty, she had thought nothing of it. She had simply been overjoyed to be able to walk and run and had not noticed that her teacher was not there waiting for her. Once she did, she guessed it might be because he was not asleep in that moment. Even though he seemed to prefer the Fade over the real world, he did not sleep all the time. Or so she assumed.

     When he did not show up during her second, third and fourth visit, she started to get worried. Why was he not here? He was always here. He had promised he would be waiting for her. She started to worry that something had happened to him as well – that whatever it was that had caused Big Ben to explode, that he had without a doubt tried to warn her about, had gotten to him as well. When she woke up again, she kept her eyes closed for a long time, trying to decide what the next best course of action was. She had to get in touch with Solas. Had to find out if he was alright – and let him know what had actually happened at Big Ben. She doubted he believed the news reports, but she could not be certain until she spoke with him.

     So while everyone else walked about in or outside the house, while Jane slipped away to some secret training room with Erik Trevelyan, while Dorian worked his ass off trying to heal her, Elena tried to come up with a plan. As the Fade was her only real communication channel, that would have to be what she used. But how?

     “What are you trying to do?” Dorian asked her one night. He was the only one still downstairs – and the only reason why he had not gone to bed was that he had been attempting to heal her again.

     “Nothing”, she replied. He raised his eyebrows at her.

     “You slip off into the Fade whenever you close your eyes and you tell me that you’re not trying to do anything?”

     Now it was Elena’s turn to frown.

     “You… how’d you know?” she asked. Dorian chuckled.

     “Mages traverse the Fade often in their dreams, seeking knowledge from demons – and spirits. There’s not much in this world’s Fade but sad memories of war, from what I’ve seen.”

     “That’s not true”, she protested.

     “Ah, so to you it’s different?” he said, giving her a challenging look. _Crap_ , she thought, then rolled her eyes.

     “Yes.”

     “Show me.”

     She hesitated, then nodded, although she was not quite sure how. The glade came to her easily enough, but to Dorian? How would he be able to find it? Still, she went to sleep, let her mind drift to the Fade, and soon found herself standing by the pond.

     “This was unexpected”, Dorian said behind her, causing her to spin around. He was walking along the treeline, studying each individual tree curiously.

     “You created this”, he said. “It has your magic signature all over. When?”

     “I don’t know”, she replied with a shrug. “Some years back, I guess? One night it was just there. Then it came back. I liked it – and now it comes when I ask it to come.”

     “Fascinating”, Dorian said. “Completely untrained and you can do this. And save your sister from a falling clocktower. I wonder what you might have been able to do had you grown up in Thedas.”

     “Wouldn’t I have been thrown into one of those Circles of yours if I had?” Elena asked, then nearly bit her tongue off. Solas was the one who had told her of the Circles, not anyone in the safehouse. Dorian frowned, obviously trying to decide if someone there might have said something.

     “How do you know of the Circles?” he asked after a while, having decided that no one there had said a word. _Crap_ , Elena thought again.

     “A friend told me”, she replied, turning away. She did not know why, but she did not want to talk about Solas with Dorian – or anyone else. Solas was her secret, like an imaginary friend.

     “A friend from Thedas?” Dorian asked, his eyebrows rising slightly once more. “Is that why you come here so often? To speak to this friend of yours?”

     “They haven’t been here since I came to the safehouse”, Elena replied, “but… before Big Ben exploded, they tried to warn me that something was about to happen. That I had to warn people. But I didn’t get the whole message and, well, now we’re in this bloody mess.”

     She waved her hand around, as if the glade equalled the mess.

     “Have you tried calling for them here in the Fade?” Dorian asked.

     “How?”

     “Well, if two mages can handle themselves in the Fade, they can sometimes alert the other of their presence by calling. Shouting, actually. However…”

     He paused.

     “I would not recommend doing it unless you can vouch for your friend being an ally.”

     “Why not?” she asked.

     “Because it will make you into a beacon”, Dorian replied. “They’ll be able to track you down – both here, in the Fade, and, if they’re skilled, in the waking world.”

     Elena hesitated. Vouch for Solas? Other than him being her teacher, him trying to warn her about the attack, him being occasionally kind to her, and her having a crush on him… she did not know much about him. Could she do something like this and promise Dorian and the others that he would not threaten their safety?

     “Do I just… shout their name?” she asked.

     “Yes. Are you sure?”

     She hesitated.

     “I’ll vouch for them”, she then said, “and I’m sure they can help us.”

     Dorian nodded.

     “Then shout”, he said. “Shout their name, use all the power you have, ask the Fade to guide them to you.”

     Elena nodded, then closed her eyes. Focused. The Fade hummed around her, responding to her request like it had never done before the explosion. _Find him_ , she told it. _Let him hear me. Guide him._

     Power surged through her body, making her gasp and open her eyes. Everything seemed to glow. No, everything was _emitting_ a glow, sending power from the trees to her. Drawing power from this old creation of hers to allow her voice to travel to wherever Solas was. She spread her arms slightly and glanced at Dorian, who looked slightly stunned at her being able to do… well, this. Then she threw her head back and shouted.

     “Solas!”

* * *

Jane’s eyes snapped open as the house shook beneath her.

     “What just happened?” Sera exclaimed, sitting up in the bed on the other side of the room. The trembling continued and it took Jane a few moments to find her balance as she rose.

     “Earthquakes are normal here, yeah?” Sera asked. “I mean, there hasn’t been any before while we’ve been stuck in this piss-poor place, but…”

     “Earthquakes don’t happen in England!” Jane replied, yanking the door open just as Varric, Cullen and Josephine hurried past it out in the corridor.

     “This is…” Jane begun.

     “Not normal?” Varric filled in. “Yes, we know.”

     Jane reached back and grabbed the coat she had been using as a nightgown from its hanger, pulling it on while hurrying after the rest of the group down the stairs. As she ran, she heard Iron Bull cursing loudly, and as she reached the ground floor she saw him frantically shaking a sleeping Dorian. Elena, in the bed next to them, was also asleep.

     “What the hell is going on?” Jane demanded to know.

     “It seems your sister and Magister Pavus are doing something in the Fade that is disturbing the real world”, Vivienne replied in her usual upper-class voice. She was the one in the group that Jane liked the least.

     “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked. “You saying my sister’s in trouble?”

     “She’ll be fine”, Erik said, stepping forward. “Dorian’s with her, or he would not stay asleep like that.”

     Jane cast him a worried look, then pushed past the others until she reached Elena’s bed. There she sat down and moved her sister’s head so that it was in her lap. Elena let out a small sigh, but did not wake up. Jane looked at Bull, who did a similar thing with Dorian. The big guy – Qunari, she had learned his race was called – looked seriously worried about his boyfriend. Jane opened her mouth to ask him if he was alright when a piercing howl made her head snap in the direction of the window.

     “That’s… a dog, right?” she asked, looking at the others who were also looking in the direction of the door or the windows. No one replied. Instead there was another howl, closer this time.

     “Varric, Sera”, Erik said, eyes glued to the door.

     “On it!” Sera shouted and ran off in the direction of the garage. Varric moved slower, but much faster than Jane had ever seen him head somewhere before. She turned back to look at Erik, but the one-armed man did not meet her gaze. Instead he was directing everyone else in the room to stand in certain places. He placed Bull by the door, along with Cullen and the quiet man called Blackwall. Vivienne he placed at the back – she already had her staff and the air around her was frigid cold. Ice magic, Jane guessed. Leliana stood near the stairs, with Josephine behind her, and standing in the middle of the room were Cassandra and Cole. When Sera and Varric came back, they carried several weapons from the training room and handed them out among the people in the room, before taking a stand just behind Cassandra and Cole – Varric with a monstrous-looking crossbow, Sera with a sleeker bow. Jane’s heart beat rapidly in her chest. She tried to meet Erik’s gaze, tried to ask him what was going on, but he kept his focus on the door and took up a stand right in front of the door. There was another howl – and then something scratched at the door. Claws raking down the wood. Jane let out a small gasp and tightened her grip on Elena. A heavy object thudded against the door, making it rattle on its hinges. Cullen gripped his sword in one hand, the doorknob with the other and glanced back at Erik, who gave a subtle nod. Then Cullen yanked the door open.

     A large, black beast bounded into the room, avoiding the swords and arrows singing through the air, and somehow deflected Vivienne’s icy blast. It instead made its way straight to Elena’s bed.

     “Get away!” Jane shouted at it. “Get away!”  
     To her surprise, it stopped. Halted a foot or two away from the bed, then lay down on its stomach and whined. Jane frowned at it, then looked up at everyone else in the room.

     “What… just, what?” she said. Erik, standing with his sword in hand – a broader one than the one he had used before losing his arm – hesitated, looking just as confused as she felt.

     “Elena”, Dorian suddenly groaned on the floor, pushing himself up. “ _Venhedis_ , Elena, this… ah…”

     He seemed to realize that they were all in the middle of something – and then noticed the large, black beast only a foot away from where he lay. In an instant he was on his feet and swore again.

     “It’s alright”, Elena suddenly mumbled from Jane’s lap, making the younger of the two sisters look down at her. Elena’s hazel eyes were on the beast on the floor. The wolf. Jane also noted that, despite just having woken up from sleep, Elena looked exhausted.

     “Elena?” she asked. Her older sister smiled a tired smile, then moved her hand from the bed to where the wolf was. It carefully rose and walked the final distance to the bed, let Elena’s fingers tangle in the long, black fur. It whined again and bumped its nose against her, in a spot where she could still feel it.

     “It wasn’t your fault”, she assured it. Jane’s frown deepened.

     “I am missing something here”, she said. “Could someone fill me in? Why is there a wolf in here and why am I the only one who thinks that’s not normal?”

     No one replied – which definitely did not make her feel better about this whole situation. With a groan she lifted Elena’s head off her lap and rose from the bed, took a stand in front of the wolf and glared down at it. It glared back at her and bared its teeth.

     “You explain, then”, Jane said, refusing to be scared by the way it looked at her. “Whatever you are, explain what the hell you’re doing here and how you know my sister, why she told you it wasn’t your fault – and, oh, I don’t know, why everyone else in this bloody house wanted to skewer you like a shish kebab?”

     The wolf stopped growling and instead gave her a slight tilt of its head, as if wondering what the hell she was talking about. And then it changed. It rose on its hind legs, lost its fur, paws became hands and feet, the tail disappeared, the snout changed into a man’s face, and suddenly it was not a wolf but a tall, elven man. Much taller than Sera. He was bald, with a sharp jaw and gleaming, silver eyes. His shoulders were broad, but his build was slim and lithe, not muscular like Erik’s. And, at the moment, the corners of his thin lips were pulled up in a somewhat amused smile.

     “ _Ara seranna-ma_ ”, he said in a deep voice, “and I thank you for looking after your sister. I'm glad she had someone like you with her when all of this happened.”

     Jane gaped at him.

     “What?”

     He bowed his head slightly at her, before sitting down on the edge of the bed, taking Elena’s hand. The proud look he had had while looking at Jane melted into sadness, worry, and blame. Whatever Elena told him, he was definitely blaming himself for what had happened.

     Why?

     “It wasn’t your fault”, Elena said once again, her hand squeezing the elven man’s. He shook his head, not believing her.

     “What are you doing here, Solas?” Erik asked. Jane turned towards him and saw that his eyes were glaring daggers at the elven man’s back and that his hand was tightening its grip on the sword hilt.

     “Elena called him here”, Dorian replied. There was a note of betrayal in his voice, which made the girl on the bed turn towards him, her expression suddenly hard.

     “I vouch for him”, she said, her voice clearer, stronger. “I trust him.”

     Jane felt as if the room had suddenly been divided into two groups. Elena and the elven man were the only members of one group, and the others – all twelve of them – were in the opposite one. And she stood in the middle, undecided.

     “Who is he?” she asked no one in particular.

     “His name is Solas”, Erik eventually replied. “He was our friend… and then it turned out he had lied to us since we first met.”

     “Wait”, Jane said, frowning, “he’s the guy that’s trying to take over your world?”

     No one replied. That was answer enough.


	5. The Cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You were the first one I spoke to, right upon my arrival here, and as I took in the strangeness of your world compared to mine, you and your forest became what I ran to. A place of safety.”_   
>  _“You never seemed that happy to be there with me”, Elena quietly said. At this, Solas turned around, took a few steps back towards her until she could see his expression in the dim light coming from the lamp above her head._   
>  _“I was”, he said, “but I was also frustrated. Frustrated that I had come to this world without figuring out why. Frustrated that I did not understand it, did not feel comfortable living here. And frustrated with the knowledge that, one day, I would hurt you as well.”_

Dorian carried Elena up the stairs and into a bedroom that – judging by the perfume – had belonged to Vivienne and someone else. No doubt the mage was not happy about being thrown out of her room, but Erik and Cullen had reasoned it was the best place to turn into a holding cell.

     A holding cell, for Elena and Solas. The elven man had not said a word since thanking Jane. Mostly, he looked like he felt he deserved the rough treatment he now received, being pulled up the stairs and locked inside this room. Ever since the door had closed between them and the rest of the house’s occupants, Solas had been sitting on the floor next to Elena’s new bed, long legs crossed, hands resting on his lap and head resting against the wall. His façade had cracked completely, leaving him vulnerable. Exposed. She had so many questions to ask him, but the way he had looked at her upon his arrival – and the way he looked now – made her hesitate. She was not sure how to handle this Solas – the one who was in this world and not in the Fade. In her dreams.

     “I suppose you have questions.”

     His voice was soft, with a sad undertone. The voice of someone who expected to be rejected, shunned. She turned her head to look at him, then slowly let her hand drop down onto his lap, taking his. He looked at their joined hands for a few moments, before raising his gaze to look at her.

     “They can wait”, she said. His gaze dropped back to their joined hands. In the darkness of the room, she doubted he could see her blush. Taking his hand had felt so natural moments ago, but in the years they had met in the Fade, they had hardly touched. Only during their first meeting and the last time before London. And now… it did not feel wrong. Or strange. Or odd. It felt right.

     “I should have…”

     “Don’t”, Elena interrupted, making him narrow his eyes at her as he met her gaze. She had never interrupted him before.

     “There’s no point”, she said, looking away. “It happened. Now we can just move on.”

     “That doesn’t mean it was right”, Solas replied. “I’m truly sorry, _lethallin_.”

     She frowned and turned back to look at him.

     “ _Lethallin_?” she said, trying to mimic the way he had said the word. He did not reply. Instead he let go of her hand and rose, walked over to the window and looked out into the dark night, hands on his back.

     “It’s been seven years since I last saw the Inquisitor”, he said. “Four of those I’ve spent in this world. Mainly in the Fade of this world, my physical body hidden away in the wild. I have seen people’s memories, sometimes stumbled into their dreams or imaginations, and through this I discovered that magic here had been suppressed for a long time. That it had been reduced to myth and legend, while the grains of it were in many infants, who never trained, never saw a need to wake their powers. Other than you.”

     He paused. For a moment, Elena thought he would turn around and face her again, but he did not. Instead he continued talking in the same soft and sad tone.

     “You were the first one I spoke to, right upon my arrival here, and as I took in the strangeness of your world compared to mine, you and your forest became what I ran to. A place of safety.”

     “You never seemed that happy to be there with me”, Elena quietly said. At this, Solas turned around, took a few steps back towards her until she could see his expression in the dim light coming from the lamp above her head.

     “I was”, he said, “but I was also frustrated. Frustrated that I had come to this world without figuring out why. Frustrated that I did not understand it, did not feel comfortable living here. And frustrated with the knowledge that, one day, I would hurt you as well.”

     He let out a soft sigh and dropped his gaze.

     “I should have come sooner.”

     “Did you know where I was?” she asked.

     “No”, he replied.

     “Then I don’t see how you could have gotten here any sooner”, she said. “I’m quite certain Dorian or Vivienne – or both of them – have put out some wards on this house to keep everyone in here hidden. If Dorian had not told me I could call for you in the Fade…”

     She hesitated at the sight of his frown.

     “Why did you call for me?” he asked quietly. “You could have called for anyone. Why me?”

     “Because I trust you.”

     “Why?”

     “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” Elena asked, wishing she could sit up. She did not like the idea of lying down while arguing.

     “This world can be cruel”, she said, “and horrible, and awful, and downright terrifying. Whenever I managed to get to that forest, in my dreams… I felt like I could let all of that go. It was, as you put it, a place of safety. And that did not change when you came there, despite being a grumpy asshole most of the time.”

     Solas’ looked taken aback by her words.

     “That doesn’t mean I didn’t want you there”, Elena quickly continued. “It… talking to you about magic, well, arguing with you about it, it gave me something else to think about. Something that wasn’t taxes or work or student loans or what to buy people as gifts for their birthdays. It was just… safe.”

     He did not reply. In fact he looked almost like he had been frozen in place, stunned by what she was saying.

     “I trust you, Solas, because you let that be my safe zone. And because you never let me get hurt, neither physically or emotionally.”

     “Until now”, he said, his voice heavy.

     “This was a coincidence”, Elena protested. “You didn’t know… you didn’t, right?”

     “No”, he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “No, I did not know the attack would be on your parliament. Or that they would already have some knowledge of magic – that they had had it repressed. Not until after. And I did not know when the attack would come. Only that it was soon.”

     Something in his expression shifted, from worry and blame to thoughtfulness. Elena had trouble following the changes in this Solas, who held nothing back, whose carefully constructed mask had dropped entirely.

     “Do you know who did it?” she prodded after nearly half a minute of silence.

     “No. I’m not certain.”

     “But you suspect someone?”

     “Yes.”

     He turned to face her again.

     “Did Dorian tell you if he sensed something about the magic used in the attack?” he asked.

     “That it was… ancient”, Elena replied. Solas’ face shifted again. This time, it was anger. Fury, even. The way his silver eyes blazed almost made her want to run from him. Well, if she had been able to.

     “ _Fenedhis_!” he growled and got back onto his feet. Even though she did not understand that word, she understood that it was some sort of curse. He paced back and forth through the room, then marched up to the locked door and banged on it.

     “Inquisitor!” he roared. “Inquisitor!”

     He banged on it a few more times before the door was yanked open. In its place were glowing bars of magic – a second barrier, if they decided to break out of their holding cell – and beyond them stood Erik Trevelyan. He narrowed his eyes at Solas.

     “What?” he snapped.

     “Did Dorian tell you what he found out about the magic used in the attack?” the elf asked. Erik moved as if he wanted to cross his arms over his chest – and then realized he only had one arm and thus let it fall back along his side.

     “He said it was ancient and powerful”, he said, “which he might have determined based on how it compared to your magic.”

     “Then you did suspect me?”

     “We did not know you were in this world until this night, Solas”, Erik replied tersely, “but yes, we suspected you did it. And that your agents might have been responsible for the death of those who aided us upon our arrival here. Since we had yet to find you in Thedas – and we had ended up here ourselves – we saw no reason why you and your forces could not be hiding here.”

     “I’m glad you did at least consider me as an option”, Solas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I was not behind this attack. Or any prior one. Like you, I did not know you were here until I sensed you tonight. Unlike you, I did not even suspect you were. And I see no reason for attacking this world, but others quite obviously do.”

     “Like who?”

     Solas was quiet and Elena had a feeling he was giving Erik the same look she had received many times while training. The look that said _think about it_ – and obviously Erik knew that look well, because he frowned slightly, pursed his lips in thought… and then his eyes widened.

     “Maker’s balls, Solas!”

     Then he spun around and hurriedly walked off through the corridor, shouting for Cullen, Cassandra, Dorian… everyone. He shouted for everyone to join him downstairs. Including Jane. Solas remained by the glowing bars, looking after him, before turning around towards Elena.

     “Do I want to know what secret conversation you two just had?” she asked. He walked over to the bed and sat down again, this time taking her hand but not saying a word. That worried her even more than him speaking would have.

     “Solas?”

     “I am so sorry, _lethallin_ ”, he sighed. She turned her hand over so that she could squeeze his.

     “Tell me”, she prompted. “What’s going on? What did you realize about the attack on Big Ben? Did you figure out who’s behind this?”

     “Yes”, he replied, “and I no longer think it was a coincidence that the attack happened when it did.”

     Elena frowned.

     “What do you mean?”

     Solas looked down at their joined hands.

     “The people I suspect”, he said quietly, “will do anything to gain what they once lost. They wish to rule and not be questioned. To wallow in luxury and not care if anyone suffers for it. They will start a war that will kill far more people than in those World Wars you have told me about. But most of all… they want to get rid of the few who might stand in their way.”

     “You mean… everyone in this house?” Elena asked.

     “One in particular”, he replied. “Me.”

     “Why?”

     “Because several millennia ago, I was the one who defeated them. Who banished them from our world and trapped them in the Void. The Void is weaker here on Earth and if they, despite their squabbling, managed to work together, they might have broken the seal.”

     Elena stared at him. Millennia? Solas was several thousand years old? In some stories she had read, elves were portrayed as immortal beings, but she had had trouble picturing Solas as one. Not because he did not have that way about him – ancient and wise and with world-weary eyes – but because… well, he was Solas. And it was a bit strange to think of your crush as someone who had been born when the ancient Greeks sailed about the Mediterranean – if time flowed similarly in Thedas as it did on Earth.

     “So… what do you not think is a coincidence?” she managed to ask, pushing her initial question regarding his age aside.

     “That it happened while you were there.”

     She frowned.

     “I don’t understand…”

     “The attack was a warning”, Solas said. “If I move against them, they will… they will hurt you.”

     “Solas, I’m not…”

     “ _Fenedhis_ , Elena”, he snapped, “you have been the one living person I have wanted to talk to these past four years. If they…”

     He fell silent, then let go of her hand and rose, marching up to the window again, keeping his back to her. She stared after him.

     “They hurt you”, he whispered, though his voice echoed in the otherwise silent room. “They hurt you.”

     His shoulders shook slightly. Was he crying?

     “Get your ass back here, you brooding elf!” Elena snapped at him. He did not turn.

     “Solas, I’m serious. I can’t walk over there, but I desperately feel like you need a hug right now.”

     Her own voice felt close to breaking – and when he still did not turn, she did something that she had not even thought was possible.

     She pulled them both into the Fade.

     Solas turned in surprise and, even from where she was pulling herself up to her feet by the pond, she could see the redness in his eyes. She gave him no chance to speak as she marched up to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He tensed.

     “I don’t…” he tried, but she shushed him. And he listened, though throughout the time of the hug he remained ramrod straight. Elena found herself wondering when the last time he had received a hug was. Perhaps no one had ever hugged him.

     That made her even sadder to think about.

     “We’ll stop them”, she said, her cheek resting against his chest. “Together. I might not be able to walk, but I’m still able to think. That’s what they did wrong. They took out the wrong part of me.”

     “ _Lethallin_ …”

     “Okay, first of all, you need to teach me that language.”

     She looked up at him as she spoke and felt herself blush when she realized just how close their faces were in that position. Thus she quickly looked away, hid her expression behind a veil of brown hair.

     “Second of all”, she said, “if you try to tell me I have to stay out of this, you’ll make a grave mistake.”

     His arms – pinned by hers – moved slightly and she loosened her grip on him, took a step back to give him some space. To her surprise he pulled her back into another hug. Her hands ended up with her face, pressed against his chest. His heart beat beneath her right palm.

     “I want you safe”, he said, his voice a low murmur.

     “I thought I told you; I’m always safe when I’m with you.”

     He snorted, causing her to look up and see a hint of a smile on his lips. She grinned.

     “See?” she said. “I made you smile.”

     His silver eyes met hers – and the smile vanished. He let go of her with one hand and brushed it against her cheek. She shivered at the touch.

     “You somehow always do”, he murmured. He looked at her as if she was the most fascinating thing he had ever encountered. A mystery and a wonder wrapped in one. Elena felt her face start to burn, turning the colour of beetroot at this intense scrutiny. He noticed her discomfort and let go, put some space between them and averted his gaze.

     “So”, she said after a few moments of catching her breath, “what happened a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away?”

     “Ah, a quote you will berate me for not remembering”, Solas said, another small smile grazing his lips.

     “And that means we’re having a movie night soon”, Elena said, then sat down on the grass. He soon joined her, looking out across the glade. Their safe zone.

     “It started with a war…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post anything yesterday! Tuesdays are long workdays for me and I'm down with a terrible cough, so I was exhausted by the time I got home and didn't have time to finish this chapter. I'll try to post double chapters tomorrow or on Friday to get back to "the right date".


	6. The Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Ceasefire”, Erik corrected. “Once we get back to Thedas… we’ll see about that when we get there. For now, Cullen is right. We need Solas’ help.”_   
>  _“I don’t like this”, Sera said, balancing precariously on her chair’s back legs. “I mean, Elfy’s caused a lot of trouble for us. Who’s to say he won’t do it now again?”_   
>  _“It’s simple”, Varric replied. “He cares too much for Elena.”_   
>  _Jane frowned at him._   
>  _“Are you saying he’s got it in for my sister?”_

“So what you’re saying is that we’re up against some old gods from your world?” Jane asked, looking from one person to the other seated around the large dinner table. Well, everyone was not seated. Erik stood up, as did Cullen, Cassandra and Leliana. The Inquisitor had not sat down once on his chair, while the three others had risen one by one as he explained what Solas believed was going on.

     “It makes more sense than Solas being behind this”, Dorian said. “Don’t get me wrong; he’s a shady bastard and I still hate that he tricked us all like he did, but he’s not some mad archvillain in one of Varric’s novels.”

     “I agree”, Varric said. “He’s quite far from one of those.”

     “An hour ago you claimed that he was trying to take over your world”, Jane groaned, “and now you’re all _no, he’s not that bad_. That, if anything, is giving me a headache.”

     “What he’s trying to do is _change_ our world”, Erik corrected, “but if he manages to do that, he’ll change the very structure of it. It will revert back to how it was thousands of years ago and he’ll be the only one who has any idea how it all works. Hence, in a way, he’ll be taking over the world.”

     “I was wrong”, Jane said. “ _That_ is giving me a headache.”

     “It is a strange thing, truly”, Leliana said, “but I am quite certain Solas’ suspicions are true. At least when it comes to him not being behind this, but something with powers originating in the same time as him.”

     Jane rubbed her temples with her fingers. All she wanted to do was decide for herself if she should trust this Solas-guy. Elena did – and Jane should side with her sister. But these people _knew_ him. What he was capable of. Jane had a feeling Jane only knew a small piece of what that guy was all about.

     “I hate to say this”, Cullen said, “but if it is the Evanuris, we will need Solas’ help. He has defeated them before. If they have any weaknesses we can use to our advantage, he knows them.”

     “So, what?” Iron Bull asked, leaning forward onto the table. “We’re supposed to call a truce?”

     “Ceasefire”, Erik corrected. “Once we get back to Thedas… we’ll see about that when we get there. For now, Cullen is right. We need Solas’ help.”

     “I don’t like this”, Sera said, balancing precariously on her chair’s back legs. “I mean, Elfy’s caused a lot of trouble for us. Who’s to say he won’t do it now again?”

     “It’s simple”, Varric replied. “He cares too much for Elena.”  
     Jane frowned at him.

     “Are you saying he’s got it in for my sister?”

     “I don’t know, Kitten”, the dwarf answered, “but I can tell you that he cares a lot about her. And she, in turn, does not want anybody else to get hurt. So he won’t do it.”

     Jane shook her head slightly, then rose from her chair.

     “One more question”, she said, leaning against the table in the same manner as Cassandra. “Do you think he can heal my sister?”

     “When he worked with the Inquisition, he was one of our strongest healing mages”, Leliana replied, “and we know now that he had not yet unlocked his full power. By now, he has. I think there’s a good chance he’ll be able to help your sister.”

     “Better than me, at least”, Dorian said with a lopsided smile. “Healing magic was never my forte.”

     “If he can”, Jane said, “I’m going to trust Elena’s judgement of him. And she said he’s fine. So, if he’s the only one with knowledge of these people, I don’t see why we should waste any more time talking about working together instead of doing it.”

     Erik’s lips twitched, hinting at a smile for a brief moment before he straightened and gave a sharp nod.

     “I agree.”

     And with that, the meeting was over. Erik was the first to head back up the stairs, no doubt to let Solas and Elena know what had been discussed. He was followed by Dorian and Iron Bull, as the former was most likely needed to break the spells that sealed the room. One by one the others dropped off as well. Jane remained. Quite some time after everyone else had headed upstairs, she slumped down on the couch and turned on the TV, muted the sound and simply watched the same footage of the Big Ben explosion that had been shown for the last eight days.

     Had it really been that long? Jeez, they were already a third of the way to Christmas. Wrapping her arms around her legs, Jane wondered if everyone back home was fine. There had been some intense interviews shown on the news where her parents, her friends, her colleagues – everyone she knew, really – had been trying to debunk the idea that she was a witch. Sorry, a _mage_. Same with Elena’s colleagues and friends. And despite not having any other evidence of them being guilty, the two of them were still the main suspects.

     If it had been a normal year, she would now be back home in her flat, putting up the Christmas tree, planning the final few Christmas gifts, and baking cookies. Elena would be on Skype doing the same thing in her place. Well, apart from the Christmas gifts. Elena always bought the last ones she needed during their yearly London-trip. They had been at the hotel when Big Ben exploded.

     “Can’t sleep?”

     Jane turned on the couch and saw Erik standing not far behind her. She had not heard him descend the stairs; she must have been so caught up in her thoughts that the creaky noises just became uninteresting to notice.

     “Just… lots on my mind.”

     “So you’re watching the news again?” he asked and sat down on the couch as well.

     “I wanted… I don’t know.”

     “Tell me.”

     Jane shook her head and leaned forward to grab the remote again. Erik’s hand took hers, stopping her.

     “What’s wrong?” he asked. She hesitated before she answered.

     “I just wanted to see my parents again.”

     Erik let out a breath, then let go of her hand and instead, tentatively, put his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her to him in a sideways hug and she felt herself curl up against him, hands clutching his shirt as a few silent tears fell.

     “We’ll solve this”, he promised. “Solas is willing to help us. We’ll figure out a way to stop the false elven gods and prove to everyone that you and Elena are innocent.”

     “People will still talk”, she said, her voice slightly muffled. “After this – regardless of the outcome – we’ll be the Big Ben Girls or the Witch Girls or something like that. I’ll be getting drinks from guys at bars with some cheesy line like, hey, hope you don’t turn me into a frog.”

     “Of course not”, Erik huffed.

     “You might have lived in this world for a few years now, but I grew up here – and I know titles like that never disappear.”

     She sat up straighter. Erik’s arm remained around her shoulders. He was frowning.

     “Seriously?” he asked. “You think they’ll buy you drinks just because you were at the Big Ben explosion and not for any other reason?”  
     “There won’t be any other reasons”, she replied. “The first thing people will think when I – or Elena – walk anywhere will be about the explosion. About all of these news reports. Same for my parents, for my friends and colleagues; they’ll all be associated with this from now on. There have been notices in the papers Leliana brings in about them – our parents – being fired from their jobs and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was true. No company wants to be associated with people who are suspected of harbouring villains like us – which is what’s happening.”

     Erik pursed his lips in thought – in that way that looked almost comical. At any other time, it would have made Jane smile. Like it had down in the training room, during their first session. Now she was too far down the dark rabbit hole of consequences to laugh, or even smile.

     “We will find a way”, Erik said after a while. “We’ll set things right. None of you should be branded by this.”

     She did not reply – and eventually he pulled back his arm.

     “Do you know what I would think if I’d see you in a bar?” he asked after a long stretch of silence.

     “What?”

     She turned away from the TV screen to look at him again.

     “I’d think you were beautiful”, he said. Jane blinked.

     “Beautiful?” she said. “Me?”

     Erik’s lips twitched.

     “Yes. But I wouldn’t buy you a drink. I’d ask you to dance.”

     “You obviously haven’t been to many bars here”, Jane said, but she could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. She turned away from him and felt the slight shift in the sofa cushions as he rose. His hand came into view in front of her face, making her look up at him.

     “May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked, smiling slightly. Jane’s mouth went bone dry. Was he serious?

     “Sure”, she heard herself reply. And then she took his hand.

     Despite there being no music and Erik lacking one arm, he moved her expertly through the patterns of a waltz. Jane only knew it was a waltz because they had been forced to learn it before prom. Back then she had hated it. Hated that it was slow and that you had to let the guy lead you through it. Now she wondered if it had been her dance partner who had made her hate it, as with Erik it felt… good.

     “Why would you ask me to dance?” she asked, picking up on their earlier conversation.

     “Because I suspected I would like dancing with you”, he replied, meeting her gaze, “and because I knew it would make you blush.”

     She hit him in the chest with her free hand.

     “Ouch”, he said, wincing. “You wound me, my lady.”

     “You speak like a bloody Disney prince at times”, she retorted, “and at other times you’re just a cheeky bastard.”

     “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

     He spun her out, then back towards him, his arm winding around the front of her body and pressing her against him. His lips grazed her ear as he spoke.

     “I’d also ask you to dance because I’d want to get to know you. Not the drunk version of you – though I suspect that would be just as entertaining – but the real you. And once I did…”

     He paused, his lips still at the shell of her ear. Hesitating. Jane turned her head slightly and he pulled back, gave her an inch or two of space. She found she did not want that. Maybe it was just a way to distract herself from all the other thoughts – or maybe it was more. Maybe there were feelings for this man – whom she still hardly knew – hidden in her heart. Either way, she did not care.

     “What then?” she asked, her voice coming out in a breathy whisper. His arm tightened across her chest and his gaze flickered down to her lips.

     “I’d not be able to let you go.”

     His lips crashed down on hers, tasting of toothpaste mint and, faintly, of mulled wine, which they had had after dinner. There was also a hint of something else, something she could not identify, and she turned around fully, wrapped her arms around his neck and licked at the seam between his lips. He groaned and let her in – and there was the complete pallet. She wanted more. All of it. All of him. She pushed him back until he sat back down on the couch and climbed into his lap, grabbed at his shirt, struggled to unbutton it. Once she had, he shrugged it off and gyrated his hips slightly against her. Rock hard.

     Jesus Christ.

     Her head swam as he untied her nightgown and his hand slipped in beneath her cotton shirt, rounded the underside of her left breast. Teasing. Burning. She stopped kissing him long enough to pull the object over her head. Once she was able to look at him again, the intensity of his gaze gave her goose bumps. His hand moved along her side, back up to her breast, and this time his head followed. He sucked her right nipple into his mouth, flicked it with his tongue, teased it gently with his teeth. She grabbed at the hair on the back of his head, felt the need to hold him in place. Urge him on. Say, with a gesture, that yes, she wanted this. Badly.

     A flash of light from the TV made her blink and turn – and made him look up as well. Jane gaped at the sight of the White House exploding, a scene viewed from multiple angles thanks to the number of security cameras.

     The same sort of explosion as the one at Big Ben.

     Below the video footage rolled the headlines.

_New magic terrorist attack!_

_No sign of the witches from Big Ben!_

_The President murdered!_

     The newsreel rolled for a few more minutes – accompanied by a news anchor delivering the full reports – before another headline flashed.

_The terrorists have sent a message!_

     Jane scrambled to her feet, completely forgetting that she was bare from the waist up as she grabbed hold of the remote and turned on the sound, just as the video message was played. The video showed a dark, cavernous room. Along the wall were several cloaked figures. One strode forward and pulled his hood back.

     Elven.

     The man narrowed his eyes slightly, then pulled his lips up in a grim smile.

     “Let the Dread Wolf know”, he said in an accent Jane could not place, “she will die last.”


	7. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“So they have, unintentionally, united people against them?” Josephine asked. “We can use that to our advantage. Perhaps this is the time to reach out to the governments around the world – to the UN. They might be more inclined to help us defeat them.”_   
>  _“With what?” Elena asked. Even though she could not see everyone from her position, she knew everyone turned to look at her. Including Solas – whom she did see, but did not look at as she spoke._   
>  _“Even if the UN decides to fight against the Evanuris, I doubt they will allow mages to fight. To these politicians, magic is a threat. Instead they will rely on armed forces. People.”_   
>  _“And the Evanuris will slaughter them”, Jane filled in with a sigh, leaning her head back against the sofa cushion._

Solas carried Elena down the stairs the next morning, placed her on the couch with her head in Jane’s lap, and together with the rest of the house’s inhabitants they watched the message sent to every government on Earth. A second in, Solas rose and walked up to the window, hands clasped on his back, and remained like that throughout the short clip. Elena was sure he had recognized the hooded figures the instant they appeared. Perhaps it was in the patterns on their clothes, or in the way they stood, or in their numbers. Seven in total.

     “Let the Dread Wolf know she will die last.”

     That was all that was said before the video cut out, then looped and replayed, was analysed by people who claimed to know what this ‘cult’ was about. Erik turned off the TV – and everyone’s attention drifted to Solas. He must have known without turning around to face them, because a few seconds later he spoke.

     “That was Elgar’nan.”

     “So it is the Evanuris who are behind all of this?” Dorian asked. Solas bent his head slightly, a miniscule gesture.

     “Yes.”

     “Are all the others there as well?” Cullen asked. “Did you recognize them?”

     Solas’ hands tightened slightly. Elena wished she was able to walk – that she could hug him, like she had in the Fade. At the moment, he looked in part like a man being interrogated, forced to reveal his deepest secrets, and in part like one who wanted to hunt down his enemies. Who wished to rip them to shreds. Most of all, he looked like a man torn between these desires – and one who was not used to being a part of a group. Who was used to working alone.

     “Everyone but Mythal”, he said after a long pause, “though, as you know, she remained in spirit with Flemeth.”

     _And later with you_ , Elena thought. Solas had told her about that in the Fade. How he, after the Inquisition’s victory over the monstrous man called Corypheus, had sought out Flemeth – the Witch of the Wilds – to take Mythal’s powers from her. Mythal, who had been his friend. Whom the Evanuris had killed for supporting his views of how the Elvhenan kingdom should be ruled. Solas had admitted that a part of him would always succumb to the will of Mythal because of this. It had grown smaller and smaller throughout the years, letting his mind be, recognizing him, but he was not a fool. He knew it would always be there – and, if he was not cautious, Mythal’s thirst for revenge against those who had wronged her would win.

     “How do we defeat them?” Erik asked. This time, Solas did not answer. He did not simply pause; he remained silent. Elena realized that either he did not have an answer – or the answer was something impossible. It would require the creation of another Veil.

     And, judging by what Solas had told her the night before, she doubted he would be willing to create one again. Not even on Earth, where fewer people than in Thedas would be affected.

     “What if we banish them again?” Jane suggested. “This… Veil-thing, the one you created last time, is it still there?”

     “It is weaker here on Earth”, Solas solemnly replied. “That is how they managed to break through. To strengthen it… it would cost too much. And if it’s strengthened here, it would be weakened somewhere else. Another place would suffer.”

     Possibly Thedas. Everyone understood the subtext. Solas had admitted that he had had a plan to remove the Evanuris from the gameboard when he tore down the Veil back in Thedas – but that plan had relied on them being weakened. The group of seven that they now faced were far from weakened. Who knew how long they had been out of the Veil – how long they had been hiding in the shadows here on Earth, planning their attack?

     “The Evanuris know we’re here”, Solas said after another long pause. “All of us. I am not sure if they know we are now working together, but they know they will have to deal with us. The attack on the White House and the murder of the President of the United States were most likely planned, but executed quicker than intended. By doing this, they have turned everyone against them. Not against untrained mages.”

     “So they have, unintentionally, united people against them?” Josephine asked. “We can use that to our advantage. Perhaps this is the time to reach out to the governments around the world – to the UN. They might be more inclined to help us defeat them.”

     “With what?” Elena asked. Even though she could not see everyone from her position, she knew everyone turned to look at her. Including Solas – whom she did see, but did not look at as she spoke.

     “Even if the UN decides to fight against the Evanuris, I doubt they will allow mages to fight. To these politicians, magic is a threat. Instead they will rely on armed forces. People.”

     “And the Evanuris will slaughter them”, Jane filled in with a sigh, leaning her head back against the sofa cushion.

     “Or”, Elena said, “they’ll become desperate. Not desperate enough to ally with mages – I doubt they ever will be – but desperate enough to try and track down where the Evanuris are hiding. And once they think they’ve found it…”

     She fell silent. Once again, it was her sister that filled in what she could not say.

     “Boom.”

     “Boom?” Varric asked.

     “Bombs”, Jane clarified. “Possibly nuclear ones – God only knows how many of those remain after the Cold War. And if people become desperate, it won’t matter how many protesters that gather outside of the UN headquarters. Those bombs will fly – and the world will end.”

     Elena shivered. It felt strange to shiver only from the chest up – and it also made her wonder if the rest of her body also shivered, but she simply could not feel it.

     “We have to work on our own, then”, Erik said. “Suggestions?”

     Though she could not see it from where the man stood in that moment, Elena was quite certain he looked at Solas as he spoke. Still hoping the elven man could give them a solution.

     “If these bombs can destroy the world”, Leliana said, “perhaps we have to find a way to sabotage them. Make it impossible to use them against the Evanuris.”

     Jane laughed bitterly.

     “Good luck.”

     “What’s that supposed to mean?” Iron Bull rumbled.

     “Those bombs require expert handling”, Jane said. “One teeny-tiny mistake and you’ll blow up your entire city – and poison the neighbouring ones.”

     “Poison?” Sera asked. Chair legs thudded against the floor and Elena was quite certain it had been the lithe elven woman who had been balancing on the rear ones – and now that Jane had said something that interested her, had lost either balance or interest in trying to beat whatever record she was trying to set.

     “It’ll change the way your body is constructed”, Elena explained, “and how your children’s bodies are constructed. The genes. Your immunity system. And it’ll linger in things for decades. Even if it’s twenty years after a nuclear bomb or plant exploded, you eating something in the affected area will affect you as well.”

     She had to draw a deep breath before she could continue, force the lowest inch of her chest to rise.

     “There was a nuclear plant in Ukraine – Chernobyl. Thirty years ago there was an accident – a meltdown – and radioactive particles spread on the wind. They reached other countries, poisoning the ground, the animals, the people, mainly where there was, at the time, a lot of rain. Even now there are places that are contaminated. Where you can’t fish, or hunt, or pick berries or mushrooms without the risk of getting sick.”

     “You know”, Varric said after a long stretch of silence, “I keep being surprised by how deadly this world is. Despite its lack of dragons and demons.”

     That was an understatement. No matter how much Solas had, by now, told her of Thedas, Elena could not find it in herself to fear it more than she feared what might happen in her world if the wrong people pressed the wrong buttons.

     “Right now, we have to be the observers”, Solas said suddenly from the windows. “If the Evanuris knew our location, they would already be here – no matter their promise of…”  
     His voice drifted off and his hands – still on his back – tightened around one another.

     “No matter their threat”, he continued. “For now, we are hidden. They will try to provoke us to reveal where we are. It is important we do not fall for their tricks – until we can turn them to our own advantage.”

     He turned and, on the way to meet Erik’s gaze, he caught Elena’s. She was sure she saw an apology written in those silver eyes – and she knew that it was for what might happen next. The Evanuris would grow desperate. They would find targets that might draw them out. Make them want to sacrifice themselves in order to stop them.

     And, as Solas turned fully towards Erik, she also realized what she was most likely the last one to figure out. She was the one the Evanuris had referenced to. She would be the last one to die. And, if the Evanuris did not live buried under a rock, they would have seen the interviews with her parents, her friends, her colleagues after the Big Ben explosion.

     They would become tools in order for them to get to her – and to him.

     She turned her head to look up at Jane, but her sister was not looking at her. Instead her gaze was turned in Erik Trevelyan’s direction. Listening for his decision. A muscle worked in her jaw, a sign that Jane wanted to speak up, protest, argue, shout… but did not.

     “Then we’ll be the observers”, Erik said after a long break of silence. “Leliana?”  
     “I’ll let my people know”, the spymaster replied.

     “The rest of us need to be ready”, Erik continued. “We’ll set up guard rotations, training sessions…”

     There was more, but Elena shut it out, because whatever he was saying would not involve her. She would not be able to help as she was now. Instead she would be the most vulnerable piece on their side of the chessboard – and the one the Evanuris wanted.

     She did not know when Solas had moved from the window, but suddenly he was there next to the couch, his long fingers brushing against her shoulder. Jane moved her hand from where it had been resting next to Elena’s head, but it was no more than a twitch. She definitely did not trust Solas, regardless of what Elena had said. Jane was more attuned to what the rest of the people in this house thought and felt towards the elven man. But Elena turned to look up at her friend, saw the apology still in his eyes, along with determination.

     “If I may be excused from those rotations”, he said, “I can use the time to heal Elena.”

     Elena blinked up at him in surprise.

     “What?”

     “How long do you need?” Erik asked, as if this was not wholly unexpected.

     “It will depend on the full extent of the damage”, Solas replied. “A fortnight, if we are lucky.”

     Elena kept staring up at him. He had mentioned that he had trained in healing magic while training her in the Fade – and, when she got here, people had mentioned that they had had a friend who was strong in the area. She had, of course, connected the pieces and figured out Solas was that person when he appeared here and people had reacted the way they had, but… a _fortnight_? Dorian had tried to heal her for a week and had not made any significant progress – except for exhausting himself. Solas now claimed he could heal her fully – if they were lucky – in roughly twice that time.

     “Agreed”, Erik said. Then, as if that was some sort of signal of a meeting’s end, chairs and feet moved against the floor throughout the room. The stairs creaked as some moved up them. The door to the garage opened and closed; someone was either heading out, using the chameleon-like car, or down into the training room. Someone headed into the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge, hunting for something to eat. Jane moved as well, lifting Elena’s head from her lap with an apologetic smile, putting it down on the couch and leaving. Erik said her name – and Elena heard her sister’s feet stop. Waiting. Then heading out through the garage door. A few seconds later the door opened and closed again. Erik, most likely, following Jane down into the training room.

     “Do you want me to carry you back upstairs?” Solas asked. He was the only one still in the room, Elena guessed, as his expression was less guarded. More open. More of what she had seen the night before.

     “You can heal me?” she asked.

     “Yes.”

     He did not elaborate – which most likely meant it would not be easy. On either of them.

     “When do we start?” she asked.

     “Right now”, Solas replied, sinking down into a crouch next to her, “which is why I want to know if I should carry you upstairs again.”

     Because he would be unable to do it later – or because he wished to give her some privacy. Or both.

     “Can we… wait?” Elena asked quietly. Solas frowned.

     “Wait?”

     “Not long”, she continued, “but… I don’t want to go upstairs. Not yet.”

     His forehead smoothed out as he understood what she meant. She did not want to be confined again. Even though she could not move around, could not go outside, being downstairs was preferable to being up in the small room that had – for a few hours – been their cell.

     “Of course”, Solas said softly, and moved to rise. Before he could, she managed to take hold of his hand.

     “Stay?”

     He looked at her in silence, causing her heart to beat faster and faster. Why, she did not quite know. Solas was not the kind of man who would stay silent this long if he meant to reject her request. Also, he did not look like he was about to reject it. He looked torn, certainly, but not between a yes and a no.

     “Of course”, he said again, his voice even lower this time. She used what muscles she could to move herself up, inviting him to sit where Jane had been sitting before. He did not sit down at once – which made her arms ache terribly. She could move and use them, but whatever injury she had sustained had caused her arms to be weaker. Or, maybe, there were muscles she had not known she had to use when move up onto her elbows that at the moment were as good as dead. Just as she was about to curse at him for not simply sitting down, he did. His hands gently helped her lie back down and she closed her eyes with a sigh when she finally could, arms trembling from the effort.

     “You trust me far too much”, he murmured, almost like he had not meant to utter those words in the first place. She opened her eyes to look up at him.

     “I don’t”, she said. “You’ve earned my trust. My safe zone, remember?”

     His lips turned slightly upwards.

     “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to scheduling conflicts, I haven't been able to write as much for this as I would have liked. This period of the year is definitely stressful for a teacher! But I am still intent on writing 25 chapters for this - and to finish it on Christmas Day. Some days you'll get double chapters, on other days just one and yet on others none, due to me having to do other things instead, but they are coming :)


	8. The Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I apologize for interrupting your practice”, he said._   
>  _“No worries”, Jane replied with a small shrug. “It wasn’t a good practice, anyway.”_   
>  _Now it was the Commander who thoughtfully studied her._   
>  _“You know”, he said after a while, “I seem to have lost my sparring partner. Would you honour me with a round or two?”_

Jane had to concentrate harder than she had ever concentrated before on climbing the ladder down into the tunnel without missing a step, on walking fast without running, and on not turning around. She knew Erik was behind her. Some distance away, yes – she heard him jump off the ladder when she was halfway through the tunnel – but definitely following. Hopefully there were people in the training room. Cullen and Cassandra had headed out into the garage before her, but the hatch to the tunnel had been closed when she got there. She was not sure they were there until she heard the clank of metal against metal.

     Jane paused in the doorway to the training room, making sure there was enough room for her to practice as well. Cullen and Cassandra were duelling with swords, much longer and broader than the one Erik had given her, and on the far end of the room was Sera, fingers strumming the string of her bow, as if playing a strange sort of harp. The elf must have used another way down – Erik had mentioned there were other paths. Jane let out a breath she had not known she had been holding in, then headed went to grab her own weapon. Once Erik caught up with her, asking to speak with her (she knew he would), Sera would not leave as easily as Cassandra or Cullen. Sera was too much of a rebel, which was why Jane enjoyed her company. And Erik would, without a doubt, not want to cause a scene, so he would leave the subject be.

     For now.

     Jane forced herself to focus on the blade and not _the subject_ as she started to go through her regular stances. By now, however, she was becoming so used to them that her mind did not need to focus as much on positioning her feet or arms or hands just right – and it started to drift. Back to what had almost happened the night before. Back to what, a part of her, still wanted to happen, and what another part wanted to forget. Blame on some alcohol she had not even consumed. She had bruises on her left hip from his hand, bitemarks around her right breast from his teeth, and her lips and tongue still recalled the taste of him, regardless of how much coffee she had had that morning. Goosebumps crawled all over her right at this moment, her body wanting to stop this ridiculous attempt at avoidance. Wanted to drop the sword on the ground, turn and run back into the tunnel until she crashed into him.

     She gritted her teeth and slashed through the air so violently she stumbled forward.

     “Son of a…”

     “Are you certain you’ve never wielded a sword before?” Cassandra asked. Jane’s head snapped up. The scarred woman stood mere feet away from her, arms folded across her chest, her sword strapped to her belt. Only moments later Cullen joined her, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck with a towel and giving Jane a quick, apologetic smile, as if apologizing for interrupting her pathetic excuse of practice.

     “Yes, I’m sure”, Jane said, looking at Cassandra again, “because swords haven’t been the trendy weapon in this world for the past two hundred years. Unless you’re dressing up as a character from a movie or game or something.”

     A muscle moved in Cassandra’s jaw. She was far too easy to get a rise out of.

     “What Cassandra is trying to say”, Cullen said, stepping forward in an attempt to avoid an argument between the two women, “is that you look like you know what you’re doing. I mean…”

     He paused, a blush tinting his cheeks.

     “I mean”, he said, clearing his throat, “you move as if you’ve practiced with a sword far longer than a week.”

     Jane’s eyes shot up slightly.

     “You’re claiming whatever I just did was good? I almost fell onto my own blade.”

     “Well, apart from that”, Cassandra said. “Are you certain you have never fought…”

     “Yes. God damn it, yes, I’m sure.”

     Cassandra pursed her lips.

     “Has the Inquisitor given you the other sword as well?” she asked after a few moments. Jane’s heart leaped into her throat at the mere mention of Erik – and she had to fight back the urge to turn and see if he was there, in the room, or at least in the doorway to the tunnel. He should have arrived by now, if he intended to practice as well. Maybe he had not intended to. Maybe he had turned around once he realized they would not be alone.

     Crisis averted.

     “No”, she replied, “he hasn’t. And I don’t see why he should; I’d rather not fumble around with two weapons and risk cutting off my toes.”

     “I doubt you would”, Cassandra said. “It’d be interesting to see if you could wield them both. Perhaps it would help with your balance.”

     A comment as well as a barb. Cassandra certainly was not trying to be her best friend here.

     “I’ll keep that in mind”, Jane said, forcing herself to sound calm. She heard Sera snicker from the other side of the room, having obviously heard them. The muscle in the scarred woman’s jaw moved again, almost making Jane grin. Cassandra knew Sera was, most likely, laughing at her failed attempt at getting a rise out of Jane. Then the woman spun around and walked away, leaving Jane with Cullen. The Commander looked surprised, then offered Jane a wry smile.

     “She isn’t terrible”, he pointed out in a low voice.

     “I know”, Jane replied, “but she needs to loosen up a bit.”

     “We all do.”

     He said it with a weariness that made her realize that, to them, there had not been peace in a long time. Perhaps never. Looking up at the blond man in front of her, Jane wondered how old he had been when he left his family to become a warrior. She had found out through Varric’s tales that he had not come from a noble family, which meant he had not been given the option to train at home, with his father’s guard, like Erik had. But at what age? Eighteen? That seemed too late for a place like Thedas. Had he still been a small boy? One who had first waited upon the grown-up soldiers, then learnt how to fight with them?

     Cullen blushed under her gaze, shifted his stance slightly and cleared his throat.

     “I apologize for interrupting your practice”, he said.

     “No worries”, Jane replied with a small shrug. “It wasn’t a good practice, anyway.”

     Now it was the Commander who thoughtfully studied her.

     “You know”, he said after a while, “I seem to have lost my sparring partner. Would you honour me with a round or two?”

     “Against you? A seasoned warrior?”

     “Might be a way for you to see what Cassandra and I saw”, he replied. There was a challenge in his gaze – and Jane hated that she was even considering it. Cullen would overpower her in two seconds or less.

     “This”, she sighed, took a few steps back and positioned herself, “is the worst idea yet.”

     Cullen’s lips curved up in a smile, which made her notice the scar that went through his upper one, on the right side of his nose. Unlike Cassandra’s scars it was not prominent enough to spot, unless you knew where to look. He took up a stance similar to hers.

     “Ladies first.”

* * *

Sweat dripped from every pore of her body by the time they called it quits. She slumped back onto the padded mats by the wall with a groan.

     “You ass”, she muttered to Cullen, who sat down on a bench near her. He chuckled and handed her a water bottle. She sprayed half of its contents on herself and downed the rest.

     “You did well”, he said, drinking from his own bottle.

     “I’m pretty sure I’ve turned blue”, she replied.

     “You’re more red than blue.”

     “Shut up.”

     He chuckled again, which made her grin.

     “Didn’t know you could laugh like that”, she said. “You’re always so silent and stoic.”

     “Well, I have never had anyone curse at me half as much as you did, while still fighting back.”

     “And you find that funny?” Jane asked, giving him a frown. Cullen rubbed his face with a towel.

     “It would seem so”, he said, suddenly thoughtful. She forced herself to sit up, despite her muscles screaming at her to stay down.

     “Well”, she said, “if that’s what it takes to make you loosen up a bit, I’d like to spar with you again some time. See how badly I lose then.”

     “You didn’t.”

     “Didn’t what?”

     “Didn’t lose.”

     Jane raised her eyebrows at him.

     “Explain”, she said.

     “If you had lost, I wouldn’t have had to shout at you to stop”, Cullen said, calm as ever. “You never yielded. Even when you fell back, you simply got up again and went back at it. As if you’ve never done anything else in your life.”

     She blinked. Had she not lost to him?

     “Are you saying it was a draw or…”

     “No”, he replied with a shake of his head. “I asked you to stop. I yielded.”

     Jane stared at him, a part of her brain knowing her mouth was hanging open and that she should probably close it to not look totally stupid, but the rest of her just did not care.

     What the hell had happened?

     “I’m just… stubborn”, she said after a while. “Just stubborn.”

     “I’ve trained people for years”, Cullen said, “first with the Templars, then with the Inquisition, and I’ve never had to yield to someone who had only been using a sword for a week’s time. Stubborn or not.”

     His gaze was steady. Not scrutinizing, not accusing. Simply steady. Level, calm, and a tad bit curious.

     “Your sister is a mage”, he said. “Who’s to say there’s not something about you as well?”

     She was unable to reply. Unable to even think. His words echoed in her head like strange church bells.

     _Who’s to say there’s not something about you as well?_

     “You need to work on your balance”, Cullen suddenly said, drawing her out of her own head. He had gotten to his feet again and she had not even noticed. Had not even seen the hand he had extended to help her up as well. She took it now, hoping that her exhaustion covered the blush on her cheeks.

     “Do exercises that strengthen your stomach muscles”, Cullen said. He was in full trainer mode right now, but she doubted he failed to notice the way she jumped when he placed one hand on her stomach and one on her lower back, indicating which muscle groups to focus on. The touch reminded her of the fact that she had bruises from another man’s hand not far from where Cullen’s now was.

     She had not thought of Erik throughout the whole sparring session – and now she could not help but compare his hand with Cullen’s, noting that Cullen’s was larger, but that Erik had longer fingers.

     _Shut the fuck up_ , she thought to herself.

     “Jane?”

     She blinked and realized Cullen was looking at her as if he expected her to answer some question or another.

     “Sorry”, she said, blushing again. Cullen frowned slightly. Then his eyes widened. He quickly dropped his hands, stepped back and blushed as well.

     “I apologize”, he said quickly, “I…”

     “No, no, it’s alright”, Jane assured him. “I was just… never mind.”

     Cullen rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, looking everywhere but at her, then cleared his throat.

     “I…”

     He cleared his throat again.

     “Do you want to spar again?”  
     “I’d love to”, she said, managing a smile. “Tomorrow?”

     He nodded, smiling tentatively. A noise behind her made him break eye contact. The slight bow he made towards whoever was there was enough to make Jane tense. She knew who stood in the doorway to the tunnel before she even turned.

     Erik Trevelyan.

     “Inquisitor”, Cullen greeted.

     “Commander”, he replied. He was leaning against the doorframe, thumb hooked in his belt, arm bare due to wearing a worn t-shirt, and with a small smile on his lips. Overall, he looked relaxed, at ease, and perhaps a bit like someone who wished to tease someone else about something they had caught them doing. Except for his eyes; hard, sharp shards of brown glass.

     “I hope I didn’t interrupt something”, he said, his tone light as he straightened up.

     “You didn’t”, Jane snapped at him, glaring back. “Cullen, thank you for the sparring session. I’ll see you later.”

     She marched past Erik out into the tunnel, keeping herself from slamming the heel of her foot down onto his. Bastard.


	9. The Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I wasn’t… afraid of you”, she said. “Just intimidated. I felt like an idiot fumbling around with magic like that – and I was scared of saying something that might make you want to stop teaching me how to use it better. Now, I just have a lot on my mind.”_   
>  _“Such as wondering why my eyes change colour?”_   
>  _She gave him an incredulous look._   
>  _“Was that sarcasm?” she asked. Solas huffed and turned his attention back to her spine – but his lips did curl upwards again._   
>  _“There’s just so much happening”, Elena said after a while, “but, yes, most of the things on my mind are just silly questions. They’re easier to ponder than all the horrors of this world at this time.”_

“Why do your eyes change colour?”

     Solas looked up from the book he had been reading, frowning deeply – which made Elena blush. Especially since she had not intended to voice the question in the first place. It had simply been something she had thought about for the past few days. Before she actually met him – while he was only her mentor in the Fade – she had always thought his eyes looked blue. Now they were silver, at times shot through with blue but never completely blue as they had looked back then.

     “Do they?” Solas asked, setting the book down. The way he said it indicated that he was, in part, surprised she had noticed it, but also wanted to hear her theory as to why it happened. And that he indeed had known it was one of those things that happened to him.

     “They were blue before”, she said, trying not to sound sheepish, “but now they’re silver. Has it got to do with magic?”

     “It might.”

     Elena gave him an exasperated look, which made his lips curve up somewhat at the corners. Briefly. Most of his smiles were brief, especially here in the real world.

     “Our friends in this house would say they have always been silver”, he said, “with the exception of Inquisitor Trevelyan. When I last met him, my eyes did change briefly to blue. At other times, they were red.”

     “Red?”

     “Mainly when I’m in wolf form.”

     That had been another thing she had been pondering. She had not known shapeshifting was possible before he appeared in her dream onboard the train in the shape of a wolf – and at the time she had blamed it on him using the Fade to aid him, but then he had also appeared here as a wolf. Now that she suddenly seemed stronger and more able to use magic, that aspect of it intrigued her. She wanted to learn it. Wanted to see what sort of animal she could change herself into. If she would be a wolf, like him.

     “The blue eyes have to do with magic”, Solas said. “With using the Fade. A different shade of it…”

     He paused, eyeing the door.

     “If you ever see my eyes turn blue for an extended period of time”, he continued, his voice lower now, “but a different shade from what you’ve seen before… tell everyone to leave. It means I have succumbed to the will of Mythal.”

     Elena frowned.

     “You said Erik had seen your eyes turn blue as well”, she said. “Why are you sounding like it’s a secret?”  
     “He has never seen my eyes turn blue from extended use of magic”, Solas replied and rose from the chair by the desk he had had brought up to the room, “and would not be able to see the difference. I am also not sure how he would take the news that Mythal was very much present the last time I saw him – and that I had to fight her to only use her power to save his life. Not kill him.”

     He walked over to her bed and sat down on the edge of it. Gently he helped her turn onto her stomach and placed his right hand on her spine, right above where they had discovered she stopped feeling anything. Elena rested her head on her arms and eyed him over her shoulder. So far they had not made any progress that she could point out, but Solas claimed there was. Perhaps it was not yet at the stage where her nerves could transmit feeling to her brain – and maybe that was a good thing. If he was healing broken bones, she guessed it would hurt. She had broken her right leg once and just letting it heal at a regular pace had at times been painful. This was that procedure sped up by quite a lot.

     “You’ve been very quiet these past three days”, Solas said while studying her back, focusing on the spell he was casting.

     “I was always quiet in the Fade as well”, Elena replied.

     “Not like this. There you were quiet because you feared me. Now… I hope that is not the case.”

     He looked away from her back to meet her gaze and she rolled her eyes at him.

     “I wasn’t… afraid of you”, she said. “Just intimidated. I felt like an idiot fumbling around with magic like that – and I was scared of saying something that might make you want to stop teaching me how to use it better. Now, I just have a lot on my mind.”

     “Such as wondering why my eyes change colour?”  
     She gave him an incredulous look.

     “Was that sarcasm?” she asked. Solas huffed and turned his attention back to her spine – but his lips did curl upwards again.

     “There’s just so much happening”, Elena said after a while, “but, yes, most of the things on my mind are just silly questions. They’re easier to ponder than all the horrors of this world at this time.”

     “I doubt they are silly”, he said, his tone gentle. She wanted to argue, but had a feeling that would entail her voicing all of those questions and him giving perfectly reasonable answers to all of them. Or as perfectly reasonable as they could be, considering they would most likely have to do with magic, which rarely seemed reasonable.

     “I’m worried about Jane”, she said after a while. Solas frowned, but did not shift his attention away from her spine.

     “Why?”

     “She’s been down since the meeting”, Elena replied. “I can tell; I’m her sister. Something’s happened.”

     “Coincidentally, Inquisitor Trevelyan has been in a foul mood since then”, Solas noted after a short pause. Elena frowned at him.

     “Erik? Are you saying him and my sister… seriously?”

     “I cannot say”, he replied. “From what I have observed, Jane has spent a lot of time with Commander Rutherford since then and has rarely interacted with Inquisitor Trevelyan. I do not know if it was the opposite before that.”

     “Well, I spent most of my time sleeping and wandering the Fade, so I can’t really tell either.”

     Elena sighed and shifted her head slightly, finding a more comfortable position.

     “When we were teens”, she said, “Jane always had some boyfriend or another – and I had to be the one who walked into her room after a rough breakup and piece her back together. If her and Erik have had something going on that ended badly…”

     “You’d instinctively want to do the same thing”, Solas filled in, glancing up to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

     “Not your fault.”

     She has lost count of how many times they had had that exchange. Him apologizing, her insisting he was not to blame. It came automatically to her by now – and she wondered what might happen if he ever apologized for something else. Would she just answer like she had now then as well?

     Her right foot itched and she opened her mouth to ask Solas to help her. Then her eyes widened in shock.

     “Elena?”

     She tried to speak, but no words came. All she could think about was that itching, annoying as it was, because it was her foot that itched. Her foot itched.

     “Elena?” Solas said again, placing a hand on her arm to draw her attention. “What’s wrong?”

     “My foot”, she managed to breathe. He moved at once, helping her turn onto her back again and adjusted her position so that she was almost sitting up. Then, with his gaze locked on hers, he placed a hand on her left foot.

     Nothing. She only knew his hand was there because she could see it.

     He must have read the disappointment in her face and removed his hand, but then he placed it on her right foot instead.

     And she felt it.

     She felt his hand just as well as she felt it when he touched her hand, or her arm, or the upper half of her back. A small gasp escaped her lips, then a giggle as one of Solas’ fingers slid to the sole of her foot. Tickling her.

     And she felt it.

     “I can feel it”, she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. No matter Solas’ reassurance that things were moving forward, she had begun to think she would not get better. And, sure, this was just a foot – and she could not move it, only feel with it. At least, she thought that was all there was. She had not attempted to move it, but then it had not twitched as his finger had tickled the underside of it. Not even a toe had moved.

     But it was progress.

     Solas was smiling – not briefly, not a small smile, but wide and triumphant.

     “Close your eyes”, he said. She did and felt his hand slowly move, from her toes all along her foot, up her ankle to her leg.

     And then the feeling stopped.

     Just above her ankle, she could no longer feel his hand.

     He must have realized, because suddenly his hand was moving back down, allowing her to feel it again. Then he applied pressure and the test turned into something akin to a massage.

     “Your toes?” he said. There was a hint of something in his tone that made the hair on her arms stand on edge.

     “I don’t… I can’t move them”, she replied.

     “Try.”

     The exchange felt eerily similar to their last training session in the Fade before London, when she had conjured the snow. When she had doubted her abilities – and he had insisted she try.

     And just like she had back then, she closed her eyes, focused, and tried.

     Her still broken body did not respond, her toes remaining immobile. She attempted moving her foot instead – bending it at the ankle – but there was no response. Only her ability to feel was back. And, for some reason, only in her right foot. Fat lot of good that did.

     But she could feel.

     Solas gently set her foot back onto the mattress and moved up so that he sat next to her on the bed. The hint of a smile was still on his lips and his eyes glittered with glee. Elena could not help but smile back at him and reach out to take his hand.

     “You did it”, she breathed.

     “It’s a start”, he replied.

     “It’s a miracle.”

     He shook his head at her.

     “Magic is no miracle, Elena”, he said. “It simply is.”

     It was such a typical way for him to put it that she laughed – which made him frown at her once again.

     “Promise me one thing, though”, she said once she had managed to calm herself again.

     “That would depend on if it’s something I can give”, he replied.

     “Don’t exert yourself.”

     Solas frowned again.

     “What?”

     “Solas, if you spend all your strength on healing me and the Evanuris decide to strike…”       His free hand was suddenly cradling her head and he had placed his forehead against hers. Instead of finishing her trail of thought – her request that he save his strength rather than spend it on healing her – she let out a soft gasp, and on her next inhale breathed in his scent. Tasted his breath as it mingled with her own. She instinctively wanted to reach out and grab his rough spun shirt and tug him down, minimize the space between them even further, but she was so shocked by his sudden movement that she simply could not move.

     “If I had to choose”, he said, his voice rough, “between saving you and the world, it would always be you. And if that means my own death…”

     “Don’t you dare”, she whispered and grabbed hold of his collar. She pulled and he obliged, pressing their lips together. The touch turned her insides to liquid fire, a fire that was both stoked and kept under control by the continuation of the kiss.

     “Elena”, he breathed against her lips as they broke apart for air. Then he dove back in again, his lips and tongue gently causing hers to part. She moved her hand from his collar to the back of his head, skimming his ear with her palm, and to her surprise that touch made him growl. Low and animalistic and, well, even if she could not feel things below her chest she knew that that bloody growl would have once made her make up her mind and invite him to her bed.

     Now, however, she hesitated. If they were to proceed – to let this absolutely amazing kiss lead somewhere else – she was not that keen on it happening while she could only feel things from her chest and up and with her right foot. Solas must have sensed her hesitation, because he broke the kiss, pulled back just enough for them to be able to see each other clearly.

     “We should wait”, she said, then wondered if he understood what she meant by that. She definitely did not want them to stop kissing. The hand he had cradled her head with moved until he was cupping her cheek, his thumb swiping over her lower lip.

     “I know, _vhenan_ ”, he whispered. He leaned down and kissed her once again, softer this time.

     “ _Vhenan_?” she asked as he pulled back. He smiled slightly, then moved their still linked hands so that they were on his chest, pressed against his heart.

     “My heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this little chapter! Sadly, I won't be able to finish this by Christmas as I had hoped. Here in Sweden we celebrate tomorrow - on Christmas Eve - so I'll be busy all day. Might still be able to post a chapter on Christmas Day, though. If not, I hope you all have a Merry Christmas!


	10. The Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You fucking will!”_   
>  _She spun around, her embarrassment giving way to anger._   
>  _“My room, my rules”, she growled and pointed at the door. “Leave!”_   
>  _Erik narrowed his eyes at her._   
>  _“What are you, eight?” he asked._

Jane was in a foul mood. She had been ever since that fleeting encounter with Erik after her first training session with Cullen – and since then things seemed to have gone to the deepest levels of hell. Well, for her, at least. She avoided Erik like the plague and he did the same with her. The only time they had even been in the same room since then was when she had been heading away from another training session, had just climbed out of the tunnel and found him waiting to climb down. They had not exchanged anything but curt nods.

     But that was nothing compared to the way Erik was suddenly behaving towards Cullen. She had overheard Josephine and Leliana discussing it the other day, Josephine frantic and worried as Erik had apparently made some comment on Cullen needing something called lyrium in order to stay focused – and that, in turn, had led to the two of them having a good old-fashioned fistfight.

Cullen had sported a black eye during their training session this morning as a result.

     “I’ll skewer that bastard”, Jane had muttered, causing the Commander to smile slightly.

     “Trust me”, he said and picked out a pair of training swords for them, “I’ve faced worse.”

     “But not from him?”

     “No”, Cullen agreed, “no, not from the Inquisitor.”

     Jane was seething as she climbed back up the ladder later that day, covered in a fresh set of bruises of her own. Her anger was, of course, not directed towards Cullen. The Commander was a gentleman, a patient tutor, her friend and had done nothing to earn what Erik had done to him. She would go through the entire house until she tracked down the one-armed guy and tell him to back the hell off or she would cut his balls off.

     Her march was pulled to an abrupt halt as she entered the main living room and found her sister and Solas on the couch in front of the television, the sound turned down low as the now regular news about witch hunts and tracks left by the Evanuris went on loop. Elena had her head in the elf’s lap and he had an arm around her, their fingers tangled together where they rested on her stomach. His other hand was absently combing through Elena’s hair, and there was a soft smile on her lips as she watched the screen.

     Considering what was on the screen and what they had been through in the last few weeks, Jane wondered if the two were in some parallel universe. They looked far too content. Far too… normal.

     “Jane?” Elena suddenly said. She had turned her gaze from the screen and was looking directly at her younger sister, the smile gone and instead replaced with a concerned frown.

     “You alright?”

     “Yeah, sure, fine”, Jane replied. Elena raised her eyebrows slightly – a sure sign she did not believe a word her sister had just said.

     “I’m going to take a shower”, Jane muttered and waved her hand at Elena and the elf. “As you were.”

     Elena called after her once again as Jane hurried up the stairs, but the younger of the sisters ignored the call and headed straight for the nearest bathroom, yanked the door open, closed it and locked it. As she stepped into the shower, she berated herself for not heading to her bedroom first to get a new set of clothes. Now she would just have to be sneaky about it and get back before anyone noticed her running about in a towel.  
     Considering the number of people living in this house… that would be difficult.

     After a long, wonderfully warm shower, she wrapped a towel about herself while listening to what went on outside. Her room was not far away, but she would still have to pass an office and the bedroom used by Dorian and Bull. And, honestly, she was not too keen on meeting either of those dressed in basically her birthday suit. Sure, Dorian was gay, and Bull was his boyfriend and, from what she had gathered, either gay or bisexual or something along those lines, but the two still had a habit of making everything sound like an invitation to some bedroom game. Running into them in nothing but a towel would not change that.

     Luckily, the corridor outside was empty and remained that way as she hurried to her bedroom. She could not help but grin a little as she closed the door behind her, triumphant and a little high on adrenaline at the fact that she had not run into anyone.

     And then someone cleared his throat behind her.

     She felt all the blood drain from her cheeks as she recognized that sound – and then how it all came rushing back, turning her face redder than the reddest Christmas bauble. For a moment, she considered going back out into the corridor, back to the bathroom, lock herself in for another hour or so.

     Then she squared her shoulders. Should she be embarrassed to stand in her bedroom in a towel? Absolutely fucking not.

     “Leave”, she bit out.

     “I will not”, Erik Trevelyan replied.

     “You fucking will!”

     She spun around, her embarrassment giving way to anger.

     “My room, my rules”, she growled and pointed at the door. “Leave!”

     Erik narrowed his eyes at her.

     “What are you, eight?” he asked.

     “Ah, so you almost fucked an eight-year-old a couple nights ago?”

     He blanched, cheeks turning red.

     “I didn’t mean it like that”, he muttered and averted his gaze.

     “Sure sounded like it”, Jane replied and pointed at the door again. “Leave.”

     Erik grumbled something under his breath, then stepped past her and yanked the door open.

     “Maker’s breath!”

     Jane let out a groan. On the other side of the door, obviously having been about to knock, was Cullen. He had slammed a hand over his eyes and averted his gaze at once when he realized she was only in a towel – unlike Erik who had not looked away until she had made him embarrassed in turn. Erik, who at the moment stood in the doorway, back to her, every muscle tense and rigid.

     “Commander”, he bit out.

     “Inquisitor”, Cullen replied, sounding just as terse. He most likely did not know exactly why Erik was so pissed off with him, but he was no idiot. Jane was sure he had a very good idea of the reason – and was thoroughly annoyed with Erik not listening to him.

     “Well, since it’s already a party, why don’t you come in as well, Cullen?” Jane sighed and sat down on the bed, pulling a blanket over her legs and still keeping the towel about her chest.

     “You let him stay, but not me?” Erik asked, letting out a bitter laugh. “I see how it is.”

     “Erik, for fuck’s sake…”

     He stomped back into the room and sat down on Sera’s bed opposite her, crossing his legs and giving her a challenging glare. Cullen remained in the doorway, not quite certain which way to go next.

     “Inside”, Jane snapped at him – and he obeyed, closing the door behind him.

     “Alright, here’s the deal”, she said, glaring at Erik, “Cullen’s my training partner, he’s dating Josephine and you’re a jealous bastard who has no right to be jealous because you’re hardly my boyfriend, so I want you to fucking apologize to Cullen right now.”

     The words spilled out so fast she was not sure the two men in her room had heard them all – until Cullen’s cheeks turned bright pink and Erik’s jaw dropped in shock.

     “Maker’s balls”, Cullen groaned.

     “You’re courting Josephine?” Erik asked, looking up at him in astonishment.

     “It’s… something new.”

     “Since when?”

     “This summer.”

     “How did I not know about this?” Erik asked, looking astounded. “Who knows about it?”  
     “Josephine’s told Leliana”, Cullen replied, “and I’ve told Cassandra… and Jane figured it out on her own.”

     “Just so you know, Trevelyan”, Jane said, “eyes are an excellent tool.”

     “Maker’s breath”, Erik muttered and leaned back against the wall, running his hand across his face, “I didn’t… that is… fuck.”

     The room fell silent and the silence grew until it was thick enough to slice and put on bread. Eventually, Cullen opened his mouth to speak, most likely to ask if he might leave, but before he could get anything out the ground beneath them shook. Erik was on his feet in an instant, reaching for the sword that was not there. Cullen did the same – although he did have a sword attached to his belt. Jane found herself rising, too, but her hands focused on keeping her towel in place.

     “What was that?” she asked.

     “I’m not sure”, Erik replied. He looked at Cullen, who looked back at him, both of them leaning back on their history, their common knowledge of fighting battles against foes she could hardly believe existed. Cullen must have read something in Erik’s eyes, because he nodded and reached for the door handle.

     The moment he pushed it down, bright, cold light streamed into the room and some sort of magical wind threw all three of them backwards. Jane winced as she slammed the back of her head into the wall.

     “Jane!”

     Erik’s hand brushed against her calf, the movement indicating he had been searching for her. She instinctively reached down with her own hand, grabbing hold of him and hauling him up. He pulled her against him, lips brushing against her head as he spoke.

     “Hold on.”

     “What’s happening?” she asked, trying to make her voice heard over the howling wind.

     “I don’t know”, Erik replied. “Cullen? Cullen!”

     “I’m here, Inquisitor”, Cullen shouted from behind her back. She reached out with her free hand, searching for him like Erik had searched for her, and his calloused hand gripped hers. The wind intensified and the objects around them rattled, the sound making it impossible to speak. Even with her eyes closed, Jane knew the light was strong enough to blind her for eternity if she so much as squinted. She hoped the two others knew this as well and that, whenever they were able to get up again, she would not have to deal with a blind Cullen or a blind Erik.

     And then it all died down. The wind, the light, the sound. Everything became deathly quiet.

     Slowly, far from sure if she should actually do this, Jane forced one eye open, then the other. At first all she could see was the fabric of Erik’s shirt. She turned her head slightly and instead gazed up at a thick coverage of leaves, red and orange and yellow. Autumn leaves.

     Cullen sat up behind her with a gasp.

     “Impossible.”

     “What is?” Jane asked. “Where are we?”

     Erik drew a shuddering breath.

     “The Hinterlands”, he replied. She frowned.

     “The what now?”

     “The Hinterlands”, Erik repeated, “in Thedas.”

     Thedas. Their world.

     And she had arrived in nothing but a towel. Wonderful.

     “I recognize those cliffs”, Erik said above her head. He was obviously speaking with Cullen by now, although he seemed reluctant to sit up like the Commander had. Jane considered doing it instead, but Erik was deliciously warm in the brisk autumn air and she did not want to freeze to death because she refused to share body heat.

     “Redcliffe”, Cullen said. “We’re not far away.”

     Erik nodded.

     “We need news”, he said, “and supplies. Clothes.”

     Jane was unable to see if Cullen nodded in reply, but she guessed he did as she heard him rise and brush off.

     “How are we going to get those things?” she asked, pushing at Erik just enough to make him loosen his grip and let her sit up. He followed, still staying near her to allow her to stay warm.

     “We’re going to have to steal them”, he said. Cullen looked reluctant.

     “If people recognize us as members of the Inquisition, they might…”

     “We’ve been gone four years”, Erik interrupted. “They’ll consider us to be ghosts – or, if things have gone to hell, as traitors. Things were instable before we left.”

     Cullen sighed and scratched the back of his neck. He did not look happy to be back in his home world. Neither did Erik.

     “Come on”, Erik said after a while, standing up and extending his hand to Jane. “We need to find a secluded place to set up camp. Then we’ll see what we can do about supplies.”

     Both men shielded her as they walked, warming her and, occasionally, helping her cross rough patches of rock. After about an hour they found a gatehouse, smashed to pieces.

     “This was fine only a few years ago”, Erik murmured, running his hand over the stones.

     “There were no reports of attacks on Redcliffe before”, Cullen noted. Which meant this place had been attacked in the last four years. Jane shivered, both due to the cold and the dread. She was certain they were walking straight into hell.

     Not far beyond the gatehouse, they found themselves standing at the top of a long, winding downhill road. Below them was a lake. On the lake’s shore was a village. Many of the houses were in ruin and there were soldiers walking the streets, noticeable in their gleaming silver armour. In the middle of the lake was a ruin. The way both Cullen and Erik gasped in shock at the sight made her think it had been quite the opposite last they had been here.

     “The castle’s gone”, Erik breathed.

     “Maker’s breath”, Cullen whispered.

     “You know”, Jane said, “I think whatever news we’ll find… they won’t be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!


	11. The Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The elf by the broken window did not bat an eyelash._  
>  _“You think I find that threatening,_ harellan _?” he asked. “Once, I did not know your tricks. I’ve had a lot of time to learn them.”_  
>  _He pushed himself off of the wall and walked closer. Solas took a step back, closer to the couch._  
>  _“You’re that protective of a lowly_ shemlen _?” the elven intruder asked. “How far you’ve fallen.”_

“There’s no trace of them.”

     Leliana’s voice made Elena push herself up as much as she could on the couch. An hour had passed since the blast of magic that tore through the house and broke windows, doors and protective wards alike – and just like the night when Solas had arrived, everyone had rushed to the open living area downstairs. And it became immediately obvious that they were three short.

     Elena had, of course, not been able to help. Even though she had wanted to. Even though she had cursed her limp legs for having saved Jane before, but not now.

     Because Jane was one of those who was missing. As well as Erik and Cullen.

     “No trace?” Josephine breathes. Her hair was a mess and she did not even seem to have noticed.

     “Jane’s room’s a mess”, Dorian noted as he made his way down the stairs. “Was it always?”

     “Yes”, Elena replied, at the same time as Sera mutters something about it not being a mess at all, because she could find everything in there. Elena swallowed, then looked around the slowly regathering group for the tall elf.

     “I know this magic.”

     His voice came from the top of the stairs, his fingers running along the banister as he frowned. Then he spun around and blasted something into the bedroom belonging to Jane and Sera. This made the others – except Elena – draw their weapons and run back up the stairs again. The girl on the couch strained her neck to see what was going on, but to no avail, and with a frustrated string of curses she fell back onto the pillows.  
     “What a terrible language you use.”

     Elena inhaled sharply, pushed herself up as much as she could and looked around the room. Leaning against the frame of a broken window was a man. An elf. Tall, like Solas, but with a more muscular build. He had dark eyes, pale hair, and a thin mouth that was pulled up in a small grin. The grin of a predator who had just cornered his prey.

     “Hello, little girl.”

     “Who are you?” Elena asked, struggling to stay upright. Damn weak muscles. The elf’s grin widened slightly.

     “Call me an old friend of the Dread Wolf.”

     In reply came an enraged howl from the top floor of the house. Moments later, a large black, furry wolf threw itself down onto the floor between Elena and the newcomer, ears pressed flat against his head and teeth bared. His body seemed to be ripple with magic energy and the ground sizzled beneath his paws.

     The elf by the broken window did not bat an eyelash.

     “You think I find that threatening, _harellan_?” he asked. “Once, I did not know your tricks. I’ve had a lot of time to learn them.”

     He pushed himself off of the wall and walked closer. Solas took a step back, closer to the couch.

     “You’re that protective of a lowly _shemlen_?” the elven intruder asked. “How far you’ve fallen.”

     Before any other word – or growl, or worse – could be spoken, an arrow pierced the elf’s shoulder. He howled and staggered back, while Varric came down the stairs.

     “Might have been a good idea to check if you got everyone in your blast before”, the elf said and readied his crossbow – Bianca – once again. Elena gaped at him, then at Solas, who changed into his elven form, and then at the others who appeared one by one, from different directions.

     “It seems you have not learned all of the tricks, Anaris”, Solas said, his voice deadly calm. The intruder gritted his teeth and yanked the arrow out of his shoulder.

     “ _Fenhedis_ ”, he spat out. “ _Bellanaris Din’an Heem, Fen’Harel_.”

     “Well, you can always try”, Dorian said, smirking slightly from where he stood leaning against the balustrade.

     “What is going on?” Elena asked, looking from one to the other.

     “I recognized Anaris’ magic”, Solas replied, his back still to her, “and was able to trace it to your sister’s room. As if he was there. Knowing him, however, I realized it was a trap. I set up an illusion of everyone moving up there to make him think he could overwhelm me, once I came back down.”

     “How could he know you’d come back down?”

     Anaris snorted.

     “Of course he would, _shemlen_ ”, he said. Solas growled.

     “Do not call her that.”

     “So what should I call her?” Anaris asked. “ _Rhangirem_?”

     Solas moved so fast that no one in the room had a chance to react. All of a sudden he had pushed Anaris up against the wall, one hand lifting him up by the throat. The other was poised on the other elf’s chest, above his heart, and his fingers were curved like claws.

     Anaris gasped out a laugh.

     “You are… easy… to anger… _harellan_.”

     “Solas, step back”, Elena breathed.

     “No.”

     “I said step back!”

     Slowly, he did. He let Anaris drop to the floor, causing the intruder to grunt as he hit his injured shoulder, and then stepped back to the couch. Without looking at her. When he was close enough, she still reached out to take his hand, keeping herself up by grabbing the back of the sofa with the other. She could feel him trembling with pent-up anger – and even though he did not look away from Anaris, he held on to her hand like it was the last thing that anchored him to this world.

     “Let me get this straight”, Elena said, wishing she could stand up as she spoke. “You’re the one responsible for the magic that wrecked this house and made three people disappear?”

     “Ah, yes”, Anaris said, looking up at her with the same predatory grin as before. “A neat little trick.”

     “Who sent you?”

     “What makes you think I was sent?”

     “Either that or you’re working alone. Which would make this a lot easier.”

     Anaris’ grin slipped and was replaced with a frown. Elena stared him down.

     “Let me make something very clear for you”, she said, hearing her voice turn icy with rage. “One of the people you’ve spelled off is my sister. And if anything happens to her – if you’ve harmed her in any way… you shouldn’t just fear the Dread Wolf’s rage for insulting me.”

     In reply, the doors of the kitchen cupboards rattled as she let some of her frustration out. Some of that magic that had been itching to be released – to do something other than just wait. Hopefully Anaris did not know that she could not do much more than that in the real world. From the look on his face, he did not.

     “Now”, Elena continued, feeling her arm start to tremble with the effort of staying upright, “I have some questions for you.”

     Something pushed at her back, steadied her, like a strange pillow. A field of magic. She was not sure if it was Dorian or Solas – or even Vivienne – who had created it, but it definitely helped her focus.

     “Were you sent by someone or do you work alone?” she started. Anaris gritted his teeth.

     “Alone. If you think the Evanuris would send me, your _falon’saota_ has not told you of me yet.”

     Elena felt Solas tense at that word, but he did not move – and she did not dare think what it might mean. Considering Anaris’ behaviour, it was probably another insult.

     “How did you find us?”

     “Tracked his magic.”

     “And where are Cullen, Erik and my sister located?”

     Anaris hesitated, which made Solas growl.

     “Thedas”, the intruder spat out. “I sent them to Thedas.”

     There was a collective intake of breath throughout the room.

     “You… sent them to Thedas?” Cassandra asked.

     “It’s a part of my power”, Anaris replied with a shrug. “ _Alas’en’virelan_. I’d walk from world to world and spread a bit of chaos now and then.”

     No one spoke for quite a few seconds, though Elena felt as if she could read their minds. She knew they all wanted to use that power of his. Make him bring them back to their home world – and abandon this one.

     “I suggest we lock him up”, Leliana said. “Can anyone bind his magic?”

     “Yes”, Solas replied, sounding tense. He gave Elena’s hand a slight squeeze, signalling to her to let him go. Then he marched – no, stalked – up to Anaris, grabbed his hands and yanked them back. The intruder hissed and cursed in pain, most likely both due to Solas pulling at his injured shoulder and the glimmer of magic he wound about his wrists. Binding and blocking Anaris’ power.

     “Well”, Varric said while Cassandra and Blackwall dragged the newcomer away, “I must admit you did a really good job. We could have used you with the Inquisition back in the day.”

     Elena did not answer, but worried her lower lip with her teeth.

     “You think he told the truth?” she asked. “You think they’re in Thedas?”  
     “He did not lie”, Iron Bull replied.

     “That’s a relief”, Josephine said and sank down on a chair. “If they’re in Thedas, they should be alright.”

     No one replied with either words or expressions that meant agreement – which made the ambassador’s face pale slightly.

     “When we were pulled from Thedas, we were at the brink of another war”, Leliana said. “I doubt us being here – all of us – have done anything to put a stop to that.”

     “But… Solas, your rebels…”

     “My people were restless before I left”, Solas bitterly replied. “Me being there – with a reputation based on mostly rumours and tales – kept them from going against my orders. With me gone, anything could have happened.”

     “They’re not safe and sound, then”, Dorian said with a heavy voice. Solas shook his head.

     “No. In fact, they might be in even more danger than we are.”

     “Why?” Sera asked. She had been unnaturally silent this whole day.

     “Because if a war happened, people look to their old heroes”, Solas said. “The latest would be the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste. But, if just as many years have passed in Thedas as they have here, people have seen no sign of the Inquisition intervening. If its Inquisitor and Commander suddenly show up now, there is a high chance of people turning on them out of spite.”

* * *

Erik and Cullen had left Jane hidden by the ruined gatehouse, then gone down into the village by the lake. As the sun slowly made its way across the sky, moving towards dusk, she grew more and more worried. It was not as if she could just run down there and find them, dressed as she was in nothing but a towel.

     Though that might work as a distraction if they were in trouble.

     She shivered and tried to find a better way to sit that both covered her and gave her a chance to get warm. Pulling your knees up to your chest while sitting in nothing but a towel was a terrible idea unless you wished to flaunt your private parts to anyone, but by now she was about to throw propriety to the wind. Or she could try using the towel as a blanket – but if it was too short…

     “Oh, fuck it”, she muttered and yanked the object from her body, pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped the towel about herself, focusing on making it cover her front as she wedged into the corner created by two fallen rocks. The towel did not quite close behind her back, but she did feel slightly warmer like this.

     Though now she would not have use of her hands if someone did attack her.

     In short; never go to another world in nothing but a towel, because that meant only trouble.

     “Fuck it all”, Jane muttered, a shiver running up her spine as a cold breeze found its way between the rocks.

     Then something cold and sharp pushed against her throat, forced her chin up. The voice that accompanied the gesture was deep and raspy.

     “And just who might you be?”


	12. The Rebels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Why the hell would I lie?” she asked. “You had that sword of yours pressed to my neck.”_   
>  _“You wouldn’t believe how desperate people get when their life’s in danger”, he replied._   
>  _“Cheesy.”_   
>  _The strange elf narrowed his eyes at her._   
>  _“Are you trying to annoy me further?” he asked._

Jane glared up at her assailant, her fear transforming into pure anger.

     “Someone who’s cold and annoyed and not fucking amused by having a blade shoved at my throat. Oh, and I’m wearing nothing but a towel.”

     If Elena had been here, she would have facepalmed. And a part of Jane agreed; those words were probably not the best to use in this situation. But she did not have the patience for small talk, or pleading for her life. Not right now.

     “Why are you out here dressed like that?” the voice asked. Its owner sounded just as annoyed as she felt.

     “In short; magic.”  
     “Magic? Are you a mage?”

     The blade pressed a little closer as he spoke, making her grit her teeth.

     “Bastard”, she hissed.

     “Answer the question”, he growled. His dark shape suddenly seemed to light up with a ghostly blue light.

     “I’m not a fucking mage, alright?” she snapped. “I’m just… bloody hell, what are you?”

     She stared at him as his features were illuminated by the glow. It originated from tattoos on his otherwise tanned skin. His features were sharp, as if cut out with a knife, his hair a stark white and his eyes glowed emerald green.

     Oh, and he was an elf.

     “I ask the questions here”, he growled.

     “I’ve answered”, she replied, growling slightly as well. “Not a mage. Got here through magic. Cold, annoyed and not amused. Got it?”

     He bared his teeth at her and moved sword ever so slightly. She reflexively moved, abandoning the comfort of the towel and somehow managed to get behind him. He spun, looking slightly surprised at the fact that she had moved faster than him.

     Honestly, she was too. She stared down at her – naked – body and wondered if her arriving in Thedas had turned her into the Flash.

     “Alright”, she said, “that’s new.”

     “Huh. You really were naked.”

     She glared at him, but found his eyes were trained on her face. Not the rest of her. That was something at least.

     “Why the hell would I lie?” she asked. “You had that sword of yours pressed to my neck.”

     “You wouldn’t believe how desperate people get when their life’s in danger”, he replied.

     “Cheesy.”

     The strange elf narrowed his eyes at her.

     “Are you trying to annoy me further?” he asked.

     “Are you?” she replied, staring him down. He readjusted his grip on the sword, moved his foot an inch…

     “Maker’s breath!”

     Both of them spun to look in the direction of the voice. Coming around the ruin were Cullen and Erik. The former had slapped a hand across his eyes, the blush apparent even from where Jane stood, while Erik stood there, gaping like a fish for a few seconds before averting his gaze.

     “Perfect timing, boys”, Jane told them.

     “Knight-Captain Cullen?” the elf asked, as the light died down from his tattoos.

     “Commander”, Cullen corrected, in a way that sounded automatic. Like he had had to do it millions of times. Then he frowned and pursed his lips slightly.

     “Fenris?”

     “Yes”, the elf replied – and, to Jane’s surprise, sheathed his sword. Then he walked back to her corner, picked up her towel and tossed it to her.

     “Thanks”, she muttered and wrapped it about herself. The two men a few feet away waited for another ten seconds before they dared to look back.

     “Are you alright?” Erik asked, taking a step towards her.

     “Fine”, she replied. “Cold and annoyed, but fine.”

     “We found some clothes”, he said, indicating at a sack he had slung over his shoulder. Then he eyed the elf – Fenris.

     “I don’t believe we’ve met”, he said.

     “No”, Fenris replied, “we have not.”

     “And Cullen knows you because…”

     “He’s with Hawke”, Cullen replied. He remained at a distance – and his eyes were trained on Fenris.

     “What are you doing here?” he asked.

     “I could ask the same of you – and of that you, whom I guess is the Inquisitor”, Fenris snorted. “Have you been on holiday somewhere nice?”

     “Unwillingly”, Erik muttered. Fenris raised his eyebrows briefly, as if surprised he had guessed correctly.

     “Come on”, he then said and turned. “I’ll take you to camp.”

     “Hey”, Jane said, “mind if I change first?”

     “Yes”, Fenris replied. “Now come on.”

     “Son of a bitch”, Jane muttered. The elf rounded on her instantly, the tattoos glowing once again.

     “Are you going to talk back this whole time?” he growled.

     “I think we’ve already established that I will”, she replied.

* * *

Fenris did not let her change there by the ruin – which meant that he had to deal with her snapping at his every instruction as they walked. Cullen and Erik seemed unsure of if they should find it amusing – or if they should put a stop to it. In the end Erik chose to smile slightly every time she spoke, while Cullen tried to distract Fenris.

     “You said you had a camp”, he said. “Are there other people…”

     “Yes”, Fenris replied.

     “Who?”

     “Old friends.”

     “All of them?”

     “No.”

     And that was all he managed to get from the elf, who marched on ahead through the wilderness, not slowing down until they found a secluded valley. Jane would have walked right past its entrance if Fenris had not ducked in behind the thick stream of vines to her left and disappeared. Erik gave a low whistle as he followed the elf.

     “You know”, he said, “I had almost forgotten this existed. I chased off some rebel mages from here right after I’d been given the Anchor.”

     “It’s mostly hidden, so it was the best fit”, Fenris replied, leading them towards the glow of several campfires. As they drew nearer a man rose next to one of them. He was a rugged looking fellow, with a thick, wild, dark hair and a beard that was somewhere between maintained and unkempt. A smile tugged his lips upwards, however, and made his blue eyes glow.

     “Well”, he said, “I didn’t expect this to be what took you so long to get back.”

     “Hawke”, Erik greeted and held out his hand, which the other man took and gave a quick shake.

     “Where have you guys been hiding?” he asked.

     “Found them near Redcliffe”, Fenris replied. Hawke raised an eyebrow at them.

     “Redcliffe?” he said. “Couldn’t you have found some other place?”

     “Alright, enough”, Jane snapped, drawing his attention. “They were in another world – my world – and now someone or something sent us back here and I can’t feel my toes.”

     Hawke stared at her, mouth slightly open. To Jane’s surprise, Fenris chuckled.

     “Glad to see you’re like that with everyone”, he said, then nodded at one of the tents. Erik wordlessly passed her the sack of clothes and she stormed off, letting out a relieved breath when the tent flap closed behind her.

     As she changed into what she had been brought – some primitive undergarments, trousers, a shirt that was slightly too big, socks, a jacket and leather shoes – she listened to Cullen and Erik explaining their situation to Hawke and Fenris. Judging by the shadows there were more people joining them, listening in, and Cullen and Erik greeted some of them with names. Old friends indeed.

     As she headed out of the tent, Jane did a quick count of the people around the fire. Other than Cullen and Erik, there were twelve – all humans or elves. No dwarves. No Qunari. It made her miss Bull and Varric a bit more than earlier.

     “Jane.”

     Erik was the first to have noticed her reappearance. She noted that him and Cullen had also changed clothes – and just like her own they were not a perfect fit. Cullen’s shirt strained over his torso, while Erik’s trousers were slightly too short.

     “So you’re the girl”, a dark-haired woman said, eyes gleaming like those of a mountain lion in the darkness. She sounded and looked dangerous – if you got on her wrong side.

     “Depends on what girl you’re talking about”, Jane replied.

     “The one who cannot be downed in a fight”, an elf said, smirking. He was a lot more muscular than any of the other elves she had met. Sure, Solas and Sera were strong – in their own ways – and Fenris was not exactly the opposite, but this man was built differently. His muscles were more bulging. More apparent.

     “I’d like to see you do that”, he continued in his accented voice, “and if that speed transcends to other things as well.”

     Jane wondered if it would be rude of her to show that speed by punching him in the nuts.

     “I’d suggest you lay off on that kind of talk, Zevran, but I doubt you’d listen.”

     That was another woman, her hair the colour of a sunrise. She was slight in build, pale and freckled, and really did not look like she could do much damage, but when she spoke the others fell silent. Everyone deferred to her.

     “Jane, this is the Her… I mean, Elissa Amell”, Cullen introduced, blushing slightly.

     “Lis for short”, the woman said, holding out her hand for Jane to shake.

     “Don’t call her that when she’s angry, though”, a blond man Cullen’s age pointed out, smiling a lopsided smile.

     “And that”, Erik said, “is King Alistair of Ferelden.”

     “Huh”, Jane said. “Seriously?”

     Considering they were huddled up in a hidden camp in the middle of nowhere, she was not certain if this king wanted her to curtsy or kneel or something. He did not look like he was offended by her question, though.

     “I’ve asked myself that quite a lot these last few years.”

     Jane looked around at the others.

     “Is this all there is?” she slowly asked.

     “What’s that supposed to mean?” a slight, dark-haired elf asked, eyes wide. “All there is?”  
     “If you’re asking if we’re all that stands between Fen’Harel’s forces and annihilation”, Hawke sighed, “then yes. We are.”

     He ran a hand through his already messy hair.

     “There’s nothing?” Erik asked, his voice low. “Anywhere? We thought Redcliffe was… an example. A way of showing what they can do.”

     The silence that followed was enough to answer that question.

     “It began four years ago”, Elissa said, “with Halamshiral. The whole city was destroyed. Then Kirkwall was levelled to the ground, then Minrathous, Qarinus… for a while they focused their attention on Tevinter only. That’s when we managed to gather the people we could find.”

     “Elissa tracked me down”, Hawke explained, “and together we found everyone else you see here. Some were trickier than others.”

     He eyed a blond human as he spoke – and the man in question looked away, seemingly ashamed.

     “I didn’t think I’d be wanted”, he said.

     “That still doesn’t explain why a king is sitting among you, but no army of his”, Jane said and nodded at Alistair. He shot her a sad smile.

     “I wasn’t a king all my life”, he replied, “and when Lis asked me to attend a meeting, I did. I left Denerim in the middle of the night…”

     He fell silent and looked away.

     “The city was destroyed hours later”, Fenris bitterly filled in. “Levelled.”

     “People who claim to be Fen’Harel’s commanders are the ones in charge now”, Hawke explained. “They’re in every city, communicating through the _eluvians_. They terrorize the people and promise that Fen’Harel will erase them. Destroy everything they love and rebuild Arlathan. They use both magic and brute force to make examples out of people. Sometimes it’s punishment for a real crime. Sometimes… sometimes they drag a random person – man, woman or child – from the street in the middle of the day and publicly execute them.”

     Jane stared at him, then turned towards Cullen and Erik. Both looked shocked.    

     “So we have two worlds that have gone to hell”, she managed to say. “Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.”

     “You’ve lived out here ever since?” Erik asked.

     “We move about”, a woman who looked a bit like Hawke replied, “but this is one of the better hiding spots.”

     “Hawke tried to find that fortress of yours first”, Elissa explained, “but it seems to have been destroyed.”

     “Not destroyed”, Hawke corrected. “It’s simply not there anymore. I’ve headed down that path a hundred times these last four years and there’s not even a trace of it left.”

     Jane frowned.

     “You’re saying someone made a fortress invisible?”

     “Something like that”, Hawke replied with a shrug.

     “Solas led us to it”, Erik said with a frown of his own. “He told me it had been his fortress once – when he also revealed his true nature. Maybe only he can allow people access.”

     “He might be using it as a base of operations, then”, a brown-haired man suggested.

     “Solas is in my world”, Jane replied. “He’s been there for four years, unable to reach back here… which means these attacks are coordinated by someone else.”

     She felt her eyes widen at the realization and turned towards Erik and Cullen.

     “Someone’s pretending to be Solas”, she said. “Who’s to say that person’s not going against what Solas had intended to do?”  
     “We don’t know for certain”, Cullen cautioned. “Solas was intent on changing this world and…”

     “He told me he did not want people to suffer”, Erik intervened. His eyes widened as well when he caught on to what Jane had figured out.

     “What?” Hawke asked, looking from one of them to the other.

     “Solas did not call on people to join him because he needed them as soldiers”, Erik breathed. “He needed them as bait.”

     “A distraction”, Jane corrected. “Whenever he was ready to do what he needed to do, he’d let this army of his appear somewhere and everyone would rush in that direction, while he concentrated his powers on another location and – bam – the world’s been changed.”

     “When he disappeared, the soldiers must have taken things into their own hands”, Cullen said, catching on, “and they’re only there for the bloodshed.”

     “Solas would never let an army ready to destroy near Skyhold”, Erik said, looking at the others in the clearing, “but he would let those he considered to be his allies near. And I bet that spell works even if he’s not here with us right now.”

     “And you’re his ally now?” Elissa asked, frowning.

     “I’d say – right at this moment – we’re allies”, Jane replied, “because if we weren’t, me and my sister would stand on opposite sides of this battlefield. And even though we have our differences, that’s something that wouldn’t happen.”

     “What’s your sister got to do with this?” King Alistair asked.

     “Solas is in love with her”, Jane replied with a grin. Jaws dropped throughout the clearing.

     “The Dread Wolf is in love with a human?” the dark-haired elven woman asked. “Impossible!”

     “You know, I called magic in general impossible only a few weeks back. Things change.”

     “I’ll set out for Skyhold tomorrow morning”, Erik said. “Those who want to come with me can do so. I’m not saying I’ll definitely find it – get past the wards of that place – but it is possible.”

     There was silence for a long while before people nodded in agreement.

     “Let’s eat and then sleep”, Elissa decided. “We’ve got a long march ahead of us.”

     As everyone dropped off to help with cooking, soon only Erik and Jane remained. Even Cullen had left them, having instead joined Elissa and Alistair by one of the other fires. Jane swallowed slightly and moved to leave, but Erik’s hand encircled her wrist and held her still.

     “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft.

     “I’m… yes. I’m alright. Just not used to all of… this.”

     Erik’s lips twitched upwards slightly.

     “This might sound strange, but I actually liked your world a bit better”, he admitted. “It was easier to get information through there.”

     Jane smiled as well.

     “Don’t worry, you’ll be back to your old self in no time. Especially if we find that fortress of yours.”

     “I can’t wait for you to see it”, he said. He sounded a bit like an excited child – and a bit like a man who wanted something else. When he realized this his smile died and he looked away.

     “I… things did not…”

     He sighed and tried again.

     “I should not have taken advantage of you that night. I’m sorry.”

     She blinked.

     “It’s alright, I…”

     “No”, he interrupted, meeting her gaze, “it’s not alright. I knew you were upset – and I wanted to comfort you, desperately, but instead… I don’t know what I was thinking. Other than…”

     He fell silent.

     “Other than what?” Jane asked. Erik did not answer at once. Instead his eyes scanned her face, seemed to take in every miniscule detail.

     “The night we met”, he said, “I thought that you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And that was before I got to know you. Before I came to admire your fiery spirit, your brashness, your protectiveness… you. If possible, I’d thought about asking to court you… and instead…”

     He winced slightly – and Jane felt herself blush.

     “You suddenly sounded like you came from the fifteenth century or something”, she said.

     “Is that bad?”

     “Not… exactly”, she replied. “Just weird. And I think I took advantage of you just as much that night… I just wanted something to distract me. I never… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

     “You didn’t. I promise.”

     “Then… can we, I don’t know, start over?”

     Erik smiled.

     “I’d like that.”

     “Are you guys going to stand there all night or are you going to help out?” Elissa shouted, causing both of them to jump and look over at where she stood preparing dough next to Cullen and Alistair. Both men were blushing furiously – obviously uncomfortable with what Elissa had just interrupted. Erik let out a small, breathy laugh.

     “We’ll help!” he called back. His gaze drifted back to Jane, who managed a small smile. Holding her gaze, Erik raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

     “I changed my mind”, she said. “Fourteenth century.”

     Erik burst out laughing and, suddenly, having been transported to another world in the middle of a terrible war and without all the amenities she was used to did not seem so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been playing DA2 recently and just felt that if the Inquisition had been forced to leave Thedas, the guys from Kirkwall and also the Hero of Ferelden and friends would step up and try to stop things. Gives me a few more characters to play with as well :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments, kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks etc. are absolutely amazing! <3


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